


Where the Sunflowers Grow

by TheIndigoDragonfly



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Angst, Boys start as kids but grow up throughout the story, Bullying, Childhood Sweethearts, Coming of Age, Explicit Language, Exploring Sexuality, First Love, Growing Up, Heritage and Belonging, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racial Stereotyping, M/M, Moderate sex, Mutual Pining, Pen Pals, Soulmates, drug references, letter writing, split POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIndigoDragonfly/pseuds/TheIndigoDragonfly
Summary: In Korea, little Lee Donghun’s head is filled with colourful stories and make-believe. All he wants is to keep his head down in school and come home to his comics – but from day one, bullies have made him their target, and he finds himself friendless.Nine thousand miles across the world, a Korean family has just moved to Italy. Their son Junhee has always been happy and popular – but it’s hard to attend an international school in a language that isn’t his own.When the boys are enrolled in a pen-pal programme by their teachers, neither knows what to expect. As they swap letters, their long-distance friendship blossoms into something beautiful as they grow from little boys into young men. But growing up isn’t easy, and both have to navigate hardships as they stumble into adulthood. Will they ever be able to finally meet in person? And if they do – what exactly is their relationship, and where do they go from there?
Relationships: Lee Donghun/Park Junhee | Jun
Comments: 178
Kudos: 171





	1. Part I

**_Donghun_ **

“Okay, class, finish up the sentence you’re writing.” Ms Jung paced between the desks of classroom 1C, casting a critical eye over the assignments getting scribbled out by students with busy pencils. “Remember, you’re in middle school now and we expect to see you making steady progress with your writing skills.” She paused, eyes lingering over one essay a little longer. Her strict tone softened. “Nice work as always, Mr Lee.”

Donghun glanced up from his work, immediately reaching to play with his bangs. It was an automatic reflex, reaching up to tug at his hair in the hope it would magically grow to cover his entire face as he went pink. Unfortunately this time, like all the times before, it didn’t – and he had nothing to hide him from the eyerolls traded by his classmates.

There was a hurried scuffle and scraping of chairs as the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. Blazers were pulled on and work turned in before giggling groups skittered out, gossiping and pulling out snacks. Donghun kept his eyes down as he handed over his writing.

“Donghun?”

His heart sunk, but he hovered obediently.

“Yes, Ms Jung?”

His teacher looked down at his work, nodding slowly. “Your writing is really coming on, you know. You’re well above the level we expect for your year.” Donghun wanted to accept the compliment, he really did, but he was anxious to leave while he was still among the crowds, otherwise he’d fall behind and that’s when they-

“Donghun?”

“Yes! Ah… Thank you.”

Ms Jung watched him, her face thoughtful. “You’re attending a _hagwon_ , aren’t you?” Donghun nodded quickly. “Good. You should aim for a good university – maybe even SKY. I know you’re only twelve, but believe me, the work begins now and you’re showing real promise.” She added his work to the pile. “Okay, you can head home. Keep it up.”

It was a warm, blue-skied afternoon but Donghun’s walk was fast as he trotted down the steps and hurried across the playground. As he walked, he ruminated on Ms Jung’s praise. Without a doubt, he was happy to hear that he was doing well – especially in writing. For as long as he could remember, he had whiled away hours on the weekend writing stories, sketching comic books and inventing characters in his head. When he lay in bed, adventurers fought fearsome baddies, superheroes saved the world… And so when he had to write for class, it didn’t even feel like work.

He wished, though, that the teachers didn’t have to _say_ it. Couldn’t they just give him a good grade and perhaps a _nice job_ in red pen, that he could read quietly and take home to his mom? And then there was asking him about university..? A prickle of anxiety bubbled inside him. He’d just started middle school and that was already hard enough. He had to survive six more years of regular school to even make it that far…

“Oh look, it’s the teacher’s baby!”

Immediately, that voice was a vice on Donghun’s heart.

“Ohh, Donghun, your work is _soo_ good!” He didn’t look up, just kept staring down at his feet as someone fell into step alongside him. A whole cluster of giggles sounded from behind. “Wow, you really are top of the class. I guess you’ve got time to kiss the teacher’s ass if you’ve got no friends.”

Donghun’s eyes glanced up for the first time as the boy next to him slung an arm around him. Kim Jiho wore a huge grin, his eyes glittering. This was his favourite sport – and his little crowd of spectators _loved_ it. They were loyal to him – Jiho was tall, broad-shouldered, and loud, with a knack for sports and a rich family, and in middle school that placed him right at the top of the pecking order. Donghun wasn’t sure what about himself had made him like blood to a shark: that he was smart; that he had yet to grow at all and was hopelessly tiny; or something else – but now he was Jiho’s plaything.

“Do you have any homework to share today, nerd?” Donghun tried to jerk away as Jiho grabbed his backpack, but he was wrenched back. Another boy grabbed Donghun by the shoulders to stop him from struggling as Jiho unzipped his bag and upturned it. Books and pens scattered down over the concrete.

“Oh look! Nerd’s already done the maths homework!” Jiho’s eyes lit up triumphantly as he flipped through Donghun’s maths book. “You’re so _kind_ spending lunchtime finishing our work for us!” With a sharp tug, he ripped the pages out and shoved them in his pocket. Donghun shrunk back as Jiho stood up again and scoffed. “What a loser.”

He gave Donghun a hard shove. Textbooks slipped under his feet and he fell backwards, hitting the ground with a bump. A peel of laughter chorused around him, and he stared down at the floor as his now-empty bag was chucked into his lap and the group of classmates began to walk away, still sniggering.

Eventually, the playground fell silent around him.

Donghun’s bottom lip wobbled. He swivelled to his knees and began to pick up his belongings, shoving them back into his backpack with shaky hands. His comic had been bent and tears began to blur his eyes, but he blinked them away. _It’s just a comic. At least they didn’t hurt you_.

“Donghun?!”

Hurried footsteps sounded the arrival of Ms Jung. He hurried to bag the last of his things and scrabbled to his feet. His teacher looked at his mucky hands and flushed face.

“What happened?”

He turned away. “Nothing. I dropped my things.”

“But I saw…” He looked up at Ms Jung beseechingly and her sentence tailed off. She sighed, worry knitting her brows. “Are you alright?” He nodded. “Okay… Well, hurry on home.”

And hurry he did – breaking into a run outside the school gates, not stopping until he got to the front door of his house. He reached deep into his pocket for his key and let himself in.

Home was safe, and his room the only place where he could finally allow his emotions to surface. As soon as he slammed his door, sadness rose up his throat. He let his bag slide to the floor and sank down on his bed, burying his face in his penguin plushie and bursting into tears.

It wasn’t _fair_. He had never done anything to those boys. All he had ever done was turn up at school and work quietly, and that’s all he wanted to do. But they wouldn’t let him. He hugged the penguin harder, shutting his eyes on the world and its cruelty. Everyone else had friends – the kids who did band practice, the soccer boys, even the other geeks stuck together. So why, _why_ couldn’t he have just _one_? That’s all he wanted, he wasn’t even asking for a group, he just wanted someone in the world who liked him…

“Honey..?”

Donghun looked up with a hiccup, drying his cheeks quickly on the sleeve of his school blazer. He wasn’t fast enough to prevent his mom’s face from falling at the sight of him crying.

“It’s nothing, I’m being dumb,” he muttered quickly, but his eyes teared up again as she sat down next to him on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” His mom’s voice was gentle as she stroked his hair. Donghun shook his head. For a moment, they sat in silence. “Ms Jung rang me on my way home from work.”

Donghun’s eyes shot up. “She did?”

“Mm.” She looked into his face, stroking his cheek with one thumb. “She told me… about the bullies. But we don’t have to talk about it.” He fought so hard to hold them in, but tears dripped from his lashes regardless. “I just want you to know that you’re a special boy. Bullies always pick on the special ones.”

“You have to say that,” Donghun croaked. “You’re my mom.”

“Oh no, I could say you’re a little hooligan if I wanted to.” He protested as she rubbed her knuckles over his hair, but grinned despite himself. His mom smiled. “That’s better. I prefer it when you’re smiling. It’s my favourite smile.” She tucked her hair behind one ear. “Ms Jung says she wants to speak to you tomorrow. Not to talk about it-” she added quickly, seeing his expression. “She just suggested something to me on the phone. Would you go to her office tomorrow at lunchtime and just see what she has to say?” Donghun hesitated, wary of letting anyone single him out any more than was necessary, but he nodded. “Okay. I love you, my little blossom.” She planted a kiss on his forehead. “Isn’t the next episode of your webtoon out today?”

Donghun sat up, his heart lifting. “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Happy reading. I’ll get some dinner ready.”

As his mom headed downstairs, Donghun dried the last of his tears and fetched the laptop from his mom’s room. He changed out of his uniform as he waited for it to load, before diving onto the bed and opening up the new episode with excitement.

As soon as Donghun began to read, everything else stopped mattering. It was like the story was a rabbit hole, and he tumbled down it into another dimension. For as long as he could remember, reading had made his imagination burst with bright colours and brand new worlds, and the characters he had met there had become his friends. Sometimes, he would take them away from their books and write them into stories of his own, filling pages and pages of swash-buckling adventures and space battles.

The bullies could wait – when he was wrapped in a story, he could be whoever he wanted, and no baddie on earth could stop him.

~

“Ms Jung? Um, you wanted me to come to your office…”

Donghun hovered in the doorway to the teachers’ room, playing with his fingers nervously. A couple of the teachers glanced up, and Ms Jung smiled.

“Come on over.” She waved at a seat beside her desk. “Sit down. How’s your day been?”

Donghun nodded, keeping his mouth zipped. He was always cautious of teachers – not of getting scolded, but because he never knew what lay behind those cheerful smiles or breezy words. Did they want him to take on more work? Push him harder? Or in this case – did she want to ask him why he was getting picked on?

“So I know that some of the other kids haven’t been treating you kindly.” Oh crap, so this _was_ about Jiho. “And I want you to know you can always come to me to talk. But… that’s not why I asked you to come here.” Ms Jung leaned on one elbow; her face was thoughtful. “Our school was invited to join a pen pal programme with other schools around the world. And I thought of you.”

“A… pen pal programme?”

“Yes. You get matched up with a student from another school, and you can write letters to each other. I thought it might be… a nice opportunity for you.”

 _It might be nice for you to make a friend_. Donghun wasn’t stupid – far from it – and he knew full-well what she meant. That said, he was hardly against the idea, and his curiosity was piqued.

“And you like writing, don’t you? This would be a fun new type of writing – and how often do you get a chance to send letters to a different country!” She smiled. “What do you think? Would you like to have a go?”

Donghun looked down at his hands, thinking. He’d heard of this kind of thing before, and had wondered what it would be like to receive a letter that someone else had taken the time to write.

“Okay.”

“Great.” Ms Jung took a slip of paper from the desk and handed it to Donghun. “I thought you would, so I already signed you up. Here’s your pen pal’s details – he’s a Korean boy whose family moved to Italy last year. A letter will take a couple of weeks to get there, but I’m sure you’ll get one back soon after!”

Donghun looked down at the slip, curious.

_Junhee Park  
Age 11  
Via della Rocca, 23, 53037  
San Gimignano  
Italy_

“Why’s his name the wrong way around?”

Ms Jung smiled. “That’s how they do it in Europe. The family name comes at the end. You can just call him Junhee, though.”

His walk home that day went unbothered, and Donghun immediately threw down his bag, yanked off his tie and sat at his desk. There was a brand-new notepad he’d been keeping for a fresh story, patterns printed around the edges of the sheets, but he decided that this was a better use for it. He carefully tugged out a fresh sheet and grabbed his favourite pen – the one with the little cactus on the end.

_Dear Junhee,_

He hesitated, propping his chin on his hand. How was he supposed to start? Sure, he loved to write, but he had no idea what this Junhee was like, what he spent time doing…

And perhaps that was the best bit. This boy didn’t know Donghun either – didn’t know that no one at school talked to him, or that no one thought he was ‘cool’. Freed by the idea that none of his classmates could have any influence on this boy’s opinion of him, Donghun clicked the end of his pen and began to write.

~

**_Junhee_ **

“Please? _Pleeease?_ ”

Junhee watched his parents exchange a look, a firm line between his father’s brows and a weary expression on his mother’s face. She sighed, shaking her head.

“You use those big eyes to get your way far too often, mister.” She shrugged helplessly. “Fine. You can go play soccer – but Junhee?” He stopped, already jumping up in excitement. “This is just once, okay? You’re not going to stop going to church. We’re a Christian family and I’m not going to have you wheedling out more than once. Got it?”

“Yep!” Junhee was already on his way to taking the stairs on his hands and feet, pouncing into his room to find his soccer boots and change his shirt. Back at the top of the stairs, he paused, hearing hushed voices from below.

“You’re too soft with him. This is how it starts – one week missed, and then the next thing we know he’s not going to church at all and telling us he’s an atheist.”

“Oh come on, he’s a good boy, that won’t happen.” Junhee heard his mom sigh. “I know I let him off the hook sometimes, I just… It’s been a big adjustment moving here. And his English is getting better in school, but then most of his friends in San Gimignano speak Italian. It’s hard for him.”

“He’s fine, it’s Junhee. He makes friends with every kid he meets.”

“I know, I know… It’s just this once. It’s a nice day and it’ll do him good to run off some energy. He’s got homework to do before tomorrow and we both know he won’t do it if he doesn’t wear himself out a bit.”

Junhee waited until they disappeared from the hallway before padding back downstairs. He felt a small flash of guilt about dodging church – but church was already long and confusing back home in Jeolla-do. Here, they drove all the way up to Florence just to listen to a service in _English_ , where the meaning washed over his head more than ever.

Junhee was pulling on his boots when a stack of letters on the hallway table caught his eye. Mail from the day before clearly hadn’t been sorted through yet, and right there, on the top: _Junhee Park._ Eyes wide, he slid it from the pile and shoved it into his bag to open later. He unlatched the door.

“Bye Mom! Bye Dad!”

It was a bright morning, and Junhee broke into a jog down the garden path. San Gimignano was just a small Tuscan town, with a skyline of medieval towers stretching up to reach a cloudless sky. The houses were all beiges and coppers that gave way on the outskirts to great fields of undulating green. Junhee’s family lived right on the edge of town. It might be a whole hour to get to school over in Siena on the bus, but being out here was the best spot for Junhee – because it meant he never had to go far to play.

“Junhee!”

Junhee waved his hands over his head with a grin as his friends called his name. He dropped his bag along with those already marking out makeshift goals and ran to join in with the others.

Soccer had been his gateway to making friends in Italy. At school, his broken English had made it hard to talk at first, and it had taken a while to find ways to communicate with his classmates. But the first weekend after they moved here, he had seen a group of boys from the town playing soccer in the fields behind their house and had watched them wistfully. They’d caught him looking though, of course, and waved him over to join in. The Italian boys knew no Korean, and Junhee had known hardly a dozen words in Italian, but both sides had used their patchwork English to trade names.

“Park!” The boys had shouted in excitement. “Like Park Ji-Sung! Manchester United!”

And it had been as easy as that.

The boys were noisy as they played today, shouting for a pass, exclaiming every time someone’s tackle was sloppy, and yelling triumphantly when the ball whizzed through the goalposts. Junhee loved this – loved being in the sunshine, loved running around until his legs got tired, and especially loved flopping down on the grass after they were all worn out and sharing snacks.

“What is it?” he asked in Italian. He held up the bag of candy handed to him by Matteo, searching for any words that looked familiar on the packet and coming up short. Matteo leaned over and pointed at a word.

“Liquorice?” Junhee raised an eyebrow. “Ah… Black candy? Just eat it.”

Junhee unwrapped a sweet and put it in his mouth, and then instantly grimaced. “Bleh!” The other boys laughed and pulled over the box of Junhee’s offering. His face looked uncertain.

“Gimbap?” Junhee tried. He switched to English. “Um… Rice? Rice roll?”

“I like rice,” Luca shrugged, shoving a gimbap in his mouth whole. His expression grew increasingly disgusted and the others tittered as he swallowed dramatically. “Ugh! It’s weird. Korean food is so weird.”

“Korean _everything_ is weird. The letters look like a robot language.” The boys laughed, and Junhee looked down and smiled, feeling a little embarrassed.

He was used to this now. The boys didn’t mean any harm at all – just like the ones at school didn’t. But when he had moved here, he had quickly realised that he was the only one who looked the way he did – his hair was different, his eyes were different, his skin was different. He ate different food, and his accent in every language was strange. And none of the other kids seemed to _mind_ , but sometimes he felt a bit like an alien on a strange planet. He had started to wish he didn’t have those differences – that he could look like his friends and talk the way they did.

After they were done swapping food, the boys headed on their separate ways. Junhee knew his parents wouldn’t be home for a while still, so he headed away from town, munching on a gimbap as he walked.

Junhee had recently discovered one of the best places he had found in Italy. Not that far out from town, behind a row of huge trees, were a sweeping blanket of sunflower fields. He had stopped, eyes wide in shock, when had first stumbled upon them – acre upon acre of bright yellow blooms, all raising their smiling faces to the sky. On the days when he wanted to escape from homework and all the language learning buzzing around in his head, he came out here to sit among the flowers.

Now, he made his way to his favourite spot. A little hill rose up that looked down over the buttery fields, and he sat down cross-legged and started to rummage through his bag for the letter he had stashed that morning. He looked at it curiously. The envelope was marked with a stamp: _Republic of Korea_. It must be from the pen pal thing his teacher had mentioned – saying something about it being good for him to be able to keep up writing in Korean. His name and address were written out in neat handwriting, and he tore into the envelope. Unfolding the paper inside, his heart skipped as he found a page of _hangul_ , and began to read.

_Dear Junhee,_

_If you’re reading this, my letter has made it to Italy okay. I asked my mom and she said that’s nearly 9,000 miles away!_

_My name’s Lee Donghun and I’m 12 years old. I live in Suwon in Gyeonggi-do, which isn’t far from Seoul. I’ve just started middle school and I live with just my mom._

_It’s hard to know what to write! My teacher just gave me your name and address and she said you’re 11. So you’re a little bit younger than me. She also said you moved to Italy last year. What’s Italy like? I’ve never left Korea and I can’t imagine living in another country. What kind of food do they have? Do you speak Italian?_

_I guess I could tell you a bit about things I like. I really like comics and books, I read a lot. I want to be a writer when I grow up. And I like webtoons too! Do you read any? I like drawing too but I’m not very good. My favourite food is sundubu-jjigae and I love pancakes as well._

_I hope you’re having fun in Italy and I hope you write back soon._

_From Donghun_

Junhee was smiling from ear to ear as he finished reading. He went through the letter again, not entirely sure why this was so exciting but happy with the way his heart was thudding. This letter had flown so far, and it was just for him! This Donghun had spent time writing it for him, and he was older too – and everyone knew it was cool to have older friends.

Already, Junhee wanted to write his response. He wasted no time in pulling out the notebook and pencil kept in his bag, and flipped it open to a blank sheet. The paper had sunflowers printed on the background and it was his favourite.

Biting his lip, he looked out over the fields, pensive, and started to scribble, happy to write in his native language that came so easily.

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun looked at his desk with a sigh. On one side, the homework for main school. On the other, a stack of work for his _hagwon_ classes. Those were the lessons he attended afterschool, at a private academy dedicated to helping students get top grades and make it into the best universities. He didn’t hate going to the extra classes – the kids at _hagwon_ ignored him but didn’t pick on him - but it made the days long and sometimes he felt too tired to focus on so many assignments.

While he was still deciding what to tackle first, a knock came on the door.

“Honey? This just came for you.”

Donghun looked up as his mom handed him an envelope. Immediately his eyes lit up – a letter! His mom grinned at his visible reaction, and left him to carefully peel back the envelope alone.

It had been about a month since he had posted his first letter to Italy. Could this be a reply?

_Dear Donghun,_

_HI! It’s Junhee here. I just got your letter! Actually I got it yesterday but my mom and dad forgot to give it to me but at least I got it today. How are you? Wait, if I ask you that now, by the time your reply gets to me, it might have changed. Oh well! I hope you’re okay, hyung! I can call you hyung, right?_

_You’re right, I moved to Italy last year. Italy is really nice, the towns are really pretty and people really like food here. And all the grownups drink coffee but I tried it one time and it’s really gross so don’t try it. The food is really good though! We eat a lot of pasta, my favourite type is called tagly telly, have you ever heard of it? It’s a bit like noodles I guess. And there’s really big pizzas!_

_The town I live in is pretty small so I go to school in a place called Siena. There’s an international school so I go there. The students are from lots of different countries, mainly from Europe, but I’m the only Korean person. There’s some Chinese girls in the year above and some people just think I’m Chinese. Anyway we all learn lessons in English which can be pretty hard. It’s nice to write a letter in Korean to you! I’m learning Italian too, my friends here are Italian so I learn from them._

_My town is surrounded by sunflower fields. They’re really pretty. Actually, that’s where I am now when I’m writing this letter! You should visit one day. It’s really fun to run through the sunflowers and you can hide because they’re really big. We could play hide and seek!_

_I like comics too! And I read webtoons, have you read any good ones? I read them when my mom and dad think I’m doing homework. I hate homework. I’d rather play soccer. Do you play? Do you like sports?_

_Anyway I’m running out of paper so I’ll say bye. Please write again!_

_Love from Junhee_

_P.S. You shouldn’t say your drawing isn’t very good, I bet it’s really good_

Donghun couldn’t help the smile on his face. It was such a… _happy_ letter, with the writing starting off fairly neat and growing into a messy scrawl halfway through. Already, he warmed to Junhee, to his excitable writing, to his too-many exclamation marks, and above all else, to that almost-forgotten note of encouragement right at the end.

_Please write again!_

It was the first time in a long time that someone wanted to hear from Donghun. And it was a feeling of indescribable warmth in his belly. Immediately, he pushed aside his homework and took out his cactus pen and paper.

~

It seems something so small, just a letter arriving in the mail once a month. But to Donghun, it became something much bigger than that. From those first introductions, the letters began to grow longer as they shared more about their lives. Each time mail came addressed to him, Donghun would light up, no matter how bad the day had been or the names Jiho and his little gang had called him. It would leave him feeling happy and light for days, and he would carefully write out his replies and run down to the post office to send them over to Italy.

In between, he would count the delivery days, so he could anticipate when the next letter would come. And he would spend days in the park reading webtoons Junhee recommended to him, and had started watching a superhero anime that Junhee liked. It made him equally happy when Junhee wrote back about the things he had recommended in return.

Junhee’s sixth letter arrived in the new year, wishing him a dozen excitable celebrations and congratulating both Donghun on turning thirteen and himself on turning twelve. Donghun read through it after school, lying belly-down on his bed. His fizzing happiness hit a snag as he read a line in Junhee’s scrawlings:

_What are your friends like? You haven’t talked about them before. What are their names?_

Donghun looked at the wall, his heart sinking. The truth was, he’d been avoiding talking about this in his letters. Junhee mentioned Matteo and Marco and Luca from his town, and Jakub and Raphaël and Pablo at school. They played soccer, had sleepovers and played Xbox, and if Donghun was interpreting it right, got into a lot more trouble together than he had ever been in in his life.

But Donghun didn’t have anyone to talk about in return. He was afraid that confessing that he was friendless would make Junhee realise he was a loser, and that he would stop writing back. And he had tried not to dwell on it, because he wriggled with discomfort at the idea that he needed Junhee’s letters more than the other way round.

He sighed, rolling onto his back and playing absently with his penguin plushie. His mom had instilled in him the most important lesson: always be honest. His heart sinking a little, he fetched his notebook.

He replied to the rest of the letter first, then tentatively began to write.

_Well, the thing is… I actually don’t really have any friends. It’s pretty embarrassing. But I went to different middle school to all my friends, and no one here likes me. There’s a popular boy called Kim Jiho and he sort of bullies me. And no one wants him to target them too so everyone else ignores me. Sorry to be a downer… But it’s nice to tell someone._

Donghun spent the next few weeks trying not to think about it. Worry bubbled away in the back of his mind that Junhee might never write back, and he refused to accept just how sad that was making him.

He came in one Friday evening to an empty home – his mom was due to work late that night. It was just as well that she couldn’t see Donghun stumble through the front door, his hair messed up, tears tracking down his face, his uniform covered in chalk from a prank played on him halfway home. He closed the front door and leaned against it, sobbing. This was beyond humiliating. How was he supposed to cope with this, again and again? When would it stop?

He cried noisily as he went upstairs and peeled off his messed up clothes, jumping in the shower and crouching down under the stream of water. He let it wash over him, the noise of the water running past his ears drowning out the taunts that still rung in his head.

He managed to dry up the tears as he dried himself off. Dressing in pyjamas, he went to fetch his comic – but a letter had been placed on top of the issue on his desk. His heart skipped as he recognised Junhee’s writing and the now-familiar Italian stamp.

The tears showed up again merely at the sight of his own name at the top of the page. He’d really convinced himself that Junhee might never write again – but here was his letter, on a day when he needed it most.

_Dear Donghun,_

_I’m gonna talk about the other stuff in a minute. I’ve got a tonne of stuff to talk to you about. But there’s something more important I want to write about first._

_I’m really sorry that you’re getting bullied. If I’m honest, I don’t know why anyone would do that to someone else. But I especially don’t know why they’re doing it to you. You’re really great, you know. I love getting your letters. It makes me really happy. I know we haven’t met but I feel like I know you and you’re a really good person. You make me laugh all the time with the stuff you say and I’ve learned a bunch of new stuff from you. And you keep me company in Korean when I don’t get to talk to anybody else my age in my own language. Anyway, it makes me really sad that anyone is making you sad._

_But you’re wrong about one thing. You DO have a friend… Me! I promise I’ll always be your friend forever! One day we’ll meet, I mean maybe they’ll invent a teleporter and I can come over to your house after school all the time! But I promise I’ll keep sending you letters until we can either teleport or we’re old enough to get on a plane by ourselves._

_And tell that Kim Jiho that me and my friends do taekwondo and we’ll kick his butt if he keeps being mean._

Donghun had to push the letter away before his tears smudged the writing. He put his head in his hands and cried, but this time they weren’t tears of futility – he was overwhelmed with gratitude and hope. It was almost too much – this heartfelt expression of friendship.

He wiped his face with his pyjama sleeves and made a silent promise. Someday, somehow, he’d find a way to see Junhee in person. Right now, nine-thousand miles felt like an entire world away, but he vowed that one day, he would do whatever it took to get to him.

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ End of Part I ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story begins..!
> 
> I'm really excited to be sharing this particular story with you! It's actually the tale I've been most excited to tell so far; I'm really happy to share the first chapter with you. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I was planning to take a little writing breather after 'Jeju', but insomnia strikes again, and I kept getting ideas, so here we are!
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, I'm so grateful.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard for Donghun to face the bullies in school every day - but he has been introduced to Junhee, and both have found a friend in one another as they write letters back and forth.
> 
> But they're both growing up, and being a teenager isn't easy - studying is hard, and navigating complicated feelings leaves both Junhee and Donghun feeling uncertain...

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee concealed a sigh, leaning his cheek on his hand as the teacher droned on about kinetic theory, his eyes gazing out the window. Outside, a gym class was running laps of the basketball court, and he watched them absently. Anything to distract him for the sheer monotony of this class.

These days, he understood classes almost perfectly. In the four years since he had moved to Italy, his daily usage of English at school had put his language development on fast-forward. Whereas he used to be able to blame his wayward attention on misunderstanding, now he could only chalk it up to boredom. His daydreams drifted across his vision; Italian, Korean and English mixed in his mind like a melting pot.

“Mr Park!” His attention snapped back to the room to find the rest of the class swivelling to look at him, and his chemistry teacher watching him with a frown. “Care to re-join the rest of us in the room..?” The teacher tapped patronisingly on the board behind him. “Open your books and complete the exercise on page fifty, please. Come on, you’re fifteen, Junhee, get your head out of the clouds.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, opening his textbook to the page written on the whiteboard. Next to him, his desk-mate flicked back her blonde hair.

“Do you want me to help you?” Junhee looked up at Lina and she gave a bright smile. “We can work on it together. And if you need help with the homework, we could always meet up after school? Oh!” she added, before he had a chance to answer. “Recently I’ve gotten into this group. Super Junior? You must have heard of them, right?”

“Uh… Yeah, I have.” He thought about putting up some sort of defence, but sighed instead and relented to splitting the task between them.

He was used to this now. Even in an international school, he was somehow still the odd one out. He wasn’t quite sure when his persona had been boiled down to nothing more than k-pop and kimchi – but it was disheartening to say the least. That said, he knew they didn’t mean any harm. Sure, they didn’t seem to get anything about his culture or heritage, but he was well-liked among his classmates – he had good friends and girls like this wanted to pay him the time of the day. He supposed it could be worse…

When class ended, Lina nonchalantly collected her things and fell into step next to him. Junhee didn’t mind so much, and he even smothered a grin at Jakub’s incredulous raised eyebrow that he caught with a sideways glance. But then that was obvious, because Jakub had a relentless thing for any pretty blonde girl who breathed near him.

He talked to Lina as they headed out of school until they had to go their separate ways. Junhee gave a half smile to his mom as he spotted her – she had been in Siena today and could save him the bus ride home.

“Hey sweetie!” she said as Junhee hopped into the passenger seat and double-took at his mom’s big smile. “Well..?”

“Well..?”

His mom tutted and smacked his arm. “Who was that?”

Junhee pulled his seatbelt across with a shrug. “A girl called Lina from my class.”

“She’s pretty!” Junhee smothered a sigh as his mom pulled out, her eyes still lit up. “Are you two… you know? Are you dating? Does she go to church?”

Junhee really had to bite down on his tongue for that one. He loved his mom dearly, he really did… But her enthusiasm for him to get a girlfriend was thinly veiled – and he knew she had a list of criteria ready to vet whichever girl that ended up being: polite, good grades, Christian.

“No, we’re not dating, Mom. She’s just working with me in chemistry.”

He fended off the rest of his mom’s questioning, and steered the conversation firmly away until they were home. He ditched his bag, pretending his homework didn’t exist, switched into jeans and a t-shirt, and grabbed together his things.

“Oh! Are you going out?” His mom stuck her head around the kitchen door. He nodded, getting bumped into by their new puppy as he careered through the hallway on big paws. “Sweetie, did I say something wrong..?” Junhee looked up, and his heart panged at her worried face. She never meant wrong – and all she ever wanted was his happiness. His frustration softened.

“No, Mom.” He crossed the hallway and planted a kiss on her forehead; he was still getting used to being taller than her. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Be back for dinner!”

Junhee took a deep breath of fresh air as he stepped outside, pushing back his dark hair. His feet took him on autopilot straight away, and he barely looked where he walked. The sounds of the town fell away until there was nothing more than the late afternoon breeze whispering through the sunflower fields.

He sat in his normal spot on the little hill, stretching out his legs and looking out over the ocean of gold.

It wasn’t weird for his mom to ask about girls. After all, it was all his friends _talked about_ – and just like his mom, they pounced on him every time they spotted him talking to anyone of the opposite sex. And the truth was, that happened all the time. He wasn’t really sure why; sure, he was pretty popular at school. He played soccer, had decent grades, and he tried to be kind to other people. But it was always them that approached _him_.

It just bothered him that he was completely… _unbothered_.

He plucked a blade of grass and began to play with it. The girls were all nice, and some of them he supposed were quite pretty. But no one had made him feel any particular desire to take things further. He’d kissed Hannah Siu in the year above at that barbecue after they’d managed to smuggle some beers from their parents’ fridges. And at Pablo’s pool party, he’d made out with that Zofia girl who had been someone’s friend, and she’d been _very_ keen to get handsy with him. But both times he’d just sort of let it happen, mildly curious but not lit up in a frenzy like the ones his friends got the second a girl _looked_ at them.

He bit his lip. What if there was something wrong with him?

He sighed again, pulling open the zip on his bag. He took out his notebook and pen, pulling a sheet loose and beginning to write.

It didn’t feel like it had already been four years that he and Donghun had been writing to one another. At the same time, he somehow couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t sit out here in the sunflower fields and open letters that had flown all the way from Korea. As they had gotten older, their letters had gone from a few messy paragraphs to several pages of thoughtful writing. And they didn’t wait for the next one to arrive from each other anymore, either; both sent two or three a month, responding haphazardly to whatever had arrived in time for them to write their next.

Junhee felt the tension of the day disappear as he read back through Donghun’s latest letter. His friend had left a comic strip at the bottom, just like Junhee had pestered him for. He grinned at Donghun’s characters, and then began to write.

At the end of the third page, he signed off.

_P.S. I made one of these for you. My mom and me used to make them back in this coffee shop in Jeolla-do. I think she picked up that I still miss home a bit, so we made some again the other night. I guess they’re friendship bracelets but you can do what you want with it (haha I know I know, it’s lame)_

_P.P.S. I’ve put some pictures of Lion in because he’s so cute, LOOK AT HIM. Also, that’s me._

He fished in his bag again. The little band of red thread was wound tight, braided into an intricate plait and clamped into a circle with a little brown bead. On his own right wrist, he wore an identical one.

He folded the letter and stuffed it into an envelope, and dropped the bracelet in with it.

Finally, he took the three photos out of his wallet and looked at them. In two of them, he crouched with Lion, the puppy’s big tongue spilling from his mouth and his tail blurry from its frantic wagging. And on the other, one of his friends had taken the photo as he had walked Lion down through the fields – or perhaps Lion had been walking Junhee.

He’d wanted to share the pictures with Donghun – but they’d never done this before. After four years, they had just written letters. He had no idea what Donghun even looked like, besides the picture he had built in his head from all the things his letters had told him. He privately hoped that Donghun would send some back, because come to think of it, it was pretty wild that he had never seen the person with whom he shared the most.

He tucked the photos into the envelope, and with a lick, sealed it shut.

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun jolted as he felt his head nod down. No. Can’t fall asleep yet.

He blinked hard, turning up the brightness of his lamp. Between his elbows, the letters of his essay swam. Sentences ran on about theory of moral development in Alice in Wonderland, and he had so much left to do… But his eyes and his head hurt.

Time was running out in the race to one of the top universities. Right now, thousands of other sixteen-year-olds around Korea would be working hard on their studying and assignments, and if he kept nodding off at a mere midnight, then he could wave goodbye to his chances of getting into Seoul National and their incredible literature course.

But tonight, tiredness swept through him, and he knew he could achieve no more.

He yawned, rubbing his puffy eyes, and meandered to his feet, drifting out of his room and downstairs to fetch a snack. He paused in the living room doorway when he saw lamplight.

“Mom, why are you still up?”

His mom looked up from her book with a smile. “I can’t expect my son to work until the early hours if I go to bed long before him.” She stretched her arms over her head. “How’s your essay?”

“It’s okay. It’s literature, how bad can it be.”

She smiled. “My little storyteller. Oh-” She reached for the coffee table. “Letter. It came today, sorry, I forgot.”

Donghun collected it, fetched some leftover _naengmyeon,_ and scampered back up his room. Upstairs, he lay back on his bed, a relief to his tired head, and opened the letter.

_Donghunnie-hyung-_

Donghun stopped reading as something else fell out of the envelope onto his chest. He frowned, and held up a small loop of neatly braided red thread. He scanned Junhee’s letter, passing over most of it to revisit later, and finding a note at the very end.

_P.S. I made one of these for you. My mom and me used to make them back in this coffee shop in Jeolla-do. I think she picked up that I still miss home a bit, so we made some again the other night. I guess they’re friendship bracelets but you can do what you want with it (haha I know I know, it’s lame)_

Sometimes Donghun wondered if Junhee would smack him round the head if he found out how often he cried at his letters. He just couldn’t help it – so often his words would catch him off guard and make a lump stick in his throat. The easiness with which Junhee expressed affection, the softness of his friendship… It was a soothing balm over the scars that still got opened every day at school. Donghun’s eyes glanced to his forearm; purple marks stood on his skin from where fingers had grabbed too tightly. The scars weren’t even just emotional, these days.

Donghun pushed up the long sleeves he had rolled down to hide Kim Jiho’s imprint from his mom’s worrying. He wriggled his fingers through the bracelet and pushed it onto his wrist; it fitted him perfectly, and he smiled and went back to the letter.

_P.P.S. I’ve put some pictures of Lion in because he’s so cute, LOOK AT HIM. Also, that’s me._

Donghun stopped, eyebrows raised. Quickly, he upturned the envelope and shook it. Three small photos fluttered out onto his duvet. He turned them over and stared, mouth open dumbly.

For the first time, he looked at the smiling face of his closest friend.

For a long time, Donghun had wondered about asking Junhee about trading photos. It had just always felt awkward, and he certainly wasn’t confident enough to send his own out of the blue. So he had gradually built up his own version of Junhee in his imagination; just another character like the ones in his stories.

Except, he hadn’t really imagined him like this.

He’d always assumed Junhee would be a little messy-haired, a little awkward looking, like himself. Donghun was always self-conscious about his round cheeks, and his wayward bangs, and his inability to smile comfortably on camera – but Junhee couldn’t have been further from him. His face was sharp, high cheekbones framing his face and an easy smile lighting up bright eyes. He wore patterned shirts and tight jeans that clung to his skinny legs, bright white sneakers and bracelets on one wrist. He looked every inch like one of the popular boys in school.

Donghun felt a strange twist in his stomach.

He immediately chalked up that feeling to surrealism. This was his friend – it was almost as though for the first time, Junhee had materialised into someone _real_ , no longer a figment of his imagination. He glanced back at the photos and felt that weird ripple in his stomach again.

“Well… shit.”

The trouble was he did know that feeling. It was the same feeling he had felt when Byunchul in the year above had smiled at him last year. It was the same feeling when he watched movies with Kim Dongwoo, who always seemed to play the rugged hero.

And if truth be told, he’d already been getting that little kick of butterflies from Junhee’s letters. _I wish I could meet you in person sooner._ Or _I hope you know you don’t deserve the way they treat you… I wish I could protect you._ Sometimes, even just his handwriting, or _Dear Donghunnie_ was enough to make a little smile twitch onto his face and his insides flutter.

He just hadn’t expected him to be cute, too.

But Donghun was smart. Just like he had worked through his sexuality at fourteen entirely by himself, so did he realise what this was. He was a sixteen-year-old boy, and hormones were firing through him left right and centre. Any pretty face was enough to make something inside him stir, that was just the way boys were wired. And for Donghun, anyone who paid him a kindness was going to send off all kinds of alarms, so desperate was he for someone to pay him attention. That’s all this was. He was just projecting his teenage feelings.

He sighed, content with his own maturity about this, and relieved that he wasn’t accidentally falling for Junhee. He couldn’t be that stupid.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee let out a shaky breath, his heart so loud he could hear it. He sat up, feeling pleasantly light-headed, and reached for the tissues kept stashed under his bed to clean himself up. As the nice tingling faded, he felt a flush of guilt, and he refused to dwell on the images his imagination had thrown up _this_ time.

“Junhee!”

He jumped. “Yeah? Mom, I’m just changing, one sec…” He stood up hastily and fumbled to refasten his belt, nearly tripping over his own feet as his mom opened his door.

“Junhee, what are you _doing_? Come on, we’ll be late.”

“Yup!” Junhee’s face burned and he tried not to look shifty under his mom’s narrowed gaze. “I’m ready.”

He hadn’t realised that becoming a teenager would make it _so_ hard to get out of bed in the morning, and now Sunday mornings were a struggle. Every week, the family would eat breakfast together, walk Lion, and get ready for church, all before Junhee even considered it a reasonable time to wake up. He trailed after his parents today, hands in his pockets, a yawn making his eyes water.

“You could try and look a little more awake.” His mother swatted him as she scolded, and he painted on an expression of alertness.

They had switched churches just this year. After so many long trips up to Florence to attend the service in English, the Parks had finally picked up enough Italian to make the move to their local church in San Gimignano. Junhee supposed he shouldn’t complain – it was a five-minute walk rather than an hour’s drive, and at least some of his friends attended this service so he could try to catch them afterwards.

Not much longer after they took their seats, the priest began the service. Junhee had grown up attending church, but somehow there still seemed to be new stories told and new lessons every week.

“And so is the path we must all strive to walk, and to lead those around us, too. To resist temptation, to maintain fortitude against bodily desires. To maintain chastity and purity until the wedlock of man and wife.”

Junhee looked down at his feet, his ears warm.

The priest continued. The thing was, so much of what he had to say made sense. Love, and compassion, and forgiveness… Those were things he could hardly argue with. But there was always something that made him feel… _guilty_ , and it always came back to one thing. Not the resisting bodily desires bit – because sure, it made him feel guilty on the spot, but he wasn’t entirely convinced that something that felt so good in the privacy of his bedroom was doing anyone any harm. But there was something else, something that he really didn’t want to open the floodgates to, but it was playing on his mind more and more…

“Mom?” he asked, as they milled out of the service and across the neat lawns of the church. Ahead of them, his dad chatted to the man who ran the greengrocers. “Um… Is sex before marriage always wrong?”

For a second, he thought he was going to get hit in the face with no further chance to speak.

“Junhee!” His mom stopped on the spot, staring at him. She lowered her voice to a hiss. “You haven’t..? Have you?!”

“No! No, I’m not… I…” He waved his hands, cringing at the curious glances in his direction. “That’s not what I meant.” He struggled to find the right words. “Well… I was wondering about if someone can’t get married.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of the boys in some of my classes at school… well, he’s gay.” He looked away nonchalantly, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “You’ve heard me talk about Bram? Well… if he can’t ever get married, does that mean if he met someone, it’s a sin?”

His mom sighed, her eyes sympathetic. “You’re worried about your friend?” Junhee nodded and she paused. “Well… Marriage is between a man and a woman. It’s in the Bible. That’s how we were made. But God does love all his children.” Junhee nodded, feeling a bit weak at that wispy answer. His mom put an arm around him, her face downcast. “That boy must have broken his poor mother’s heart though.”

Junhee suddenly had to focus very hard just to keep walking.

He decided to be angry at himself. Why was he even bringing this up? Because he felt guilty that he hadn’t been _resisting bodily temptations_ , or because he felt even guiltier about the boys he thought of sometimes when he was doing it? So what, that didn’t _mean_ anything. He’d only ever kissed _girls_ , and one day he would find one he liked. One day he’d get married and make his mom _happy_.

He spent the rest of Sunday playing soccer with his friends, and suddenly sex and sin were a long way from his mind. He stopped replaying the conversation, and if his mom seemed concerned by his asking, she didn’t show it.

On Monday morning, he skittered through the hallway still dressing, running late. His mom threw a pastry at him to eat on the way to school and he hopped to pull on his sneakers. Before leaving, he scooped up the scattering of mail on the hallway floor, shuffled through it, nabbed the one for him and dashed out the house.

He just about made it to the bus on time. He flopped in a seat near the back, pressing his forehead to the cool window. Outside, rain pattered down and filled the air with the scent of fresh grass. Junhee took a messy bite of his breakfast and used his pinkie to tear open the envelope.

_Little Junheeee~~_

Junhee rolled his eyes. Donghun was so annoying.

_First of all, you do realise you just dropped a massive spoiler for The Queen’s Consort in one of your last letters don’t you?! It’s a good job you’re a billion miles away otherwise I’d smack you._

Oops.

_Thanks for my bracelet. It fits perfectly – I’m wearing it every day. In fact, I haven’t taken it off, it might fuse to me... You’re not as clumsy with your hands as you say you are, you know – those things are really hard to make._

Junhee felt a swell of pride and happiness. His own red bracelet, the twin of Donghun’s, also hadn’t left his own wrist. There was something so soothing about having it there as something to absently play with in class, knowing that someone else wore the other one, a long way away.

_Also, Lion is so cute. And… massive. Why did such a small person get such a big dog..? Just kidding… He’s so fluffy. Bet he’s so nice to cuddle._

_By the way… it was also kind of cool to see you too. I think I’d invented you in my head and it was crazy that I hadn’t seen you before. SO unfortunately that means I have to repay you so you get photos of me and my grandparents’ shiba inu. LOOK AT THE LITTLE FOX DOG._

But Junhee wasn’t focussing on the dog. He rifled through the envelope for the photos, and turned them the right way up. His eyes softened.

He had also imagined a visage for Donghun in his mind, making up his appearance from snippets of details Donghun had given him from over the years. But he couldn’t have been further from the mark. Donghun was furiously self-deprecating; the only time he mentioned his appearance it was about being “too skinny” or complaining about his skin or laughing off the idea of any girls finding him attractive. And Junhee hated it – because it didn’t matter how Donghun looked, he was such a rare find, and even just knowing him through his letters, he knew Donghun had so much that made him loveable.

But he was… Well, he was…

Junhee swallowed. He could say it _objectively_ , right? He had soft messy hair, and full lips, and eyes that turned down a little at the edges that made him look sad but also… pretty? And at sixteen, it didn’t look like he was ever going to grow to be tall, but he was all long legs and little waist and-

Was this still objective..?

He shook himself internally and went through the rest of Donghun’s letter, deciding to spend the rest of the journey starting his letter in reply. He hesitated, and then committed.

_Hunnie, I’m so pissed at you. You’ve been telling me for years they pick on you for the way you look. You’re beautiful inside and out, what the hell. I don’t ever want you to put yourself down about the way you look again because I’ll fly to Korea and yell at you._

He moved on to write back to the other things in Donghun’s letter, getting pastry crumbs everywhere, and all the while glancing back at those two photos until, hesitating, he tucked them into his wallet for safekeeping.

~

**_Donghun_ **

“Hey! Hey! Oi, I’m talking to you, prick!”

Donghun gritted his teeth. Not today. He was exhausted from working late, and he had to get to his _hagwon_ class, and just… not today. But that voice kept scratching at him like nails against his heart.

“Can’t you hear me? Are you fucking deaf?” Jiho jogged up beside him and grabbed his arm. Donghun tried to yank it away, but fingers sunk in hard. He winced as they connected with fingerprint bruises still left behind from last week. Three of Jiho’s friends loitered behind him. These days, he wasn’t sure if it was that much of a fun game to them anymore, or just a routine to make sure no one ever dared to challenge them – using Donghun as their shining example.

“Hey, what’s this..?” Jiho’s eyes glittered as he pulled up Donghun’s wrist, giving the bracelet on his hand a tug. “Aw, cute jewellery, like a little girl…” He grinned, his face close to Donghun’s. “Well, let’s see what goodies you’ve got for us today, loser.”

Donghun, as always, wriggled to get away – but only because putting up no defence felt like he may as well give up on himself altogether. But it was half-hearted; the sooner he let them do whatever they wanted, the sooner he could get to his evening class.

Jiho upturned his belongings – how many years had he enjoyed doing that? – and Donghun waited, eyes deadened. _Take it, take whatever homework you want, steal stationary, laugh at the books I’m reading…_

“Hang on, what’s this..?” Jiho stopped, looking at something in his hand. Donghun’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, no, don’t-”

“Ah!” Jiho held Junhee’s letter out of reach, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So you don’t want me to look? Well then…” He unfolded the paper, his eyes starting to skim through Junhee’s writing. Donghun’s face went warm with hatred. They could pick on him, they could call him what they wanted, but bringing Junhee into this was…

“Wait a second, does nerd have a _love letter_?” Jiho flung it out to his friends, who all pressed close to see, their faces lit up. “And it’s…” He pulled out a polaroid photo from the envelope, the one of Junhee and Lion walking through sunflower fields. Jiho couldn’t have looked happier if he had struck gold. “Oh my god. Do you have a _boyfriend_?!”

“No…” Donghun stepped back, his face burning, desperately trying to force down the tears that stung his eyes. “He’s just my friend…”

“Oh, “just a friend”…” Jiho made a crude gesture with his hand, and the others burst out laughing. “Well, he’s a bit of a pretty-boy…” Jiho held up the photo, looking like he’d sussed everything. “Now tell me. Is he the ‘girl’?”

When he looked back on the moment, Donghun would always remember the physical feeling of something snapping. It was like the rubber band that held in all his self-disappointment, all his helplessness, broke with a twang inside him.

Because no one could talk about Junhee like that and get away with it.

Before he knew what he was doing, he wrenched Jiho up by the front of his shirt and punched him.

Donghun had never hit anyone in his life, but that smack had been five years in the making, and it connected cleanly with Jiho’s cheek and sent him stumbling backwards onto the gravel.

“Fuck you!” Donghun stood over him, his fists still clenched. He breathed hard. “What have I _ever_ done to you? We’re sixteen, for _fuck’s_ sake, grow up!”

The fire inside him was short-lived. Someone wrenched back Donghun’s arms as Jiho spat on the ground and staggered to his feet. All that cruel mirth that normally lived on his petulant face was gone, replaced by a furious snarl.

He didn’t say anything, he just hit Donghun twice as hard.

He didn’t stop at one punch. Donghun was distantly aware that his nose was bleeding when whoever was holding back his arms shoved him forward and let him collapse onto his hands and knees, where a foot connected with his ribs. All the momentary fire inside him died, and he curled up, crying out, arms wrapped over his head.

“Get away from him!”

Donghun heard fast footsteps, an exclamation, and then the bodies around him left him. He didn’t move.

“Go the fuck home before you give me a good reason to go back to school and make sure you’re all kicked out. Go!” A grumbling, and running feet, and then silence.

“Hey… Hey kid…” Donghun opened his eyes, vision blurry from the pain. A face looked down with frightened eyes, and gentle arms helped him sit up. “Holy shit. Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” Donghun swivelled to sitting, cupping his nose. Swaying, he looked at his scattered belongings, reaching to get Junhee’s letter before the wind could blow it away.

“Hey, stop, I’ll get it.” For a moment Donghun’s heart skipped in fear, but the voice was kind, and he watched his helper carefully gather up his things and tuck them back into his bag. As he blinked away the haze, recognition dawned on him. The boy looked at him, worry still on his face. “Do you think you can stand up? Here, I’ll help you.”

Donghun accepted the arm the boy slipped around him, although under any other circumstances he would have flushed red. Standing up made his head spin and he stumbled a little. The boy held onto him.

“I’ve got you.” He handed Donghun a tissue for his bloody nose. “What’s your name?”

“Um… Lee Donghun.”

“I’m Kyo Byunchul.”

 _I know,_ he wanted to say. Of course he knew the prettiest boy in the year above, with a perfect GPA, a seat at the table with the popular kids, and a dozen trophies won for the school in the volleyball team. God, Donghun still remembered the day he had smiled at him _one time_.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” Byunchul’s eyes were wide with concern, and Donghun shook his head, embarrassed.

“I’m fine. Honestly.”

“I’ll drive you home.” Donghun looked dubious, and Byunchul adjusted his arm around him. “Come on, you can’t walk home like this.”

“But… I have _hagwon_ classes…” he muttered.

“You can skip _one_ class.” Byunchul glanced at him as they walked to the carpark. “Don’t you have a perfect grade?”

“…How do you know that?”

Byunchul flashed him a smile; Donghun’s insides lurched. “I’ve heard your name mentioned. The teachers think you’ll go to Seoul National, right?” Byunchul used his spare hand to reach for his car keys. “Well, maybe we’ll see each other there too.”

Byunchul asked him about Jiho as he drove him home; it was a short trip but, in that time, the older boy expressed his distaste for what had happened and his sympathy for Donghun.

“If you need someone to hang out with,” he said, pulling up outside Donghun’s house. “You can always come to me and my friends.” Donghun stared at him, stunned, and Byunchul grinned. “What? What’s that look for?”

“S-sorry, nothing…” Donghun looked away, going pink. “Um… really?”

“Yeah.” Byunchul tapped the steering wheel absently. “You’re smart, and you seem nice… Too nice for the bozos in your year, apparently. Come find us at lunch on Monday. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“Sure. Um… Thanks for the ride home.”

“No problem. Take it easy.”

When Donghun got inside, the pain of the kicks to his sides took a hold. He made it to the kitchen sink and threw up, sweat beading on his forehead. His face hurt, his body hurt, and he was still numb with anger at Jiho touching Junhee’s photo…

… But _Kyo Byunchul_ had scraped him up, and more than that, he’d invited him to join his friends next week. Donghun was entirely stunned.

He went upstairs to clean up his face, still in shock about everything. He was halfway through changing when he spotted a letter on his bed. His heart twisted. Junhee was writing more than ever these days, and he just somehow always knew how to get letters to him on the days he most needed them.

Sitting down, he began to read through it. It was the normal patter, the normal excitement over some webtoon…

Then Donghun stopped, staring.

_Also, you know how it costs a million euros to call internationally? Well KakaoTalk now has free calls, you can just do them over the internet. I downloaded it… Do you want to talk some time? We can message too on there so we could, like… watch shows at the same time and message about them? I mean I’m obviously going to keep sending you A HUNDRED letters a week because I like getting them back but anyway… Add me if you think it would be fun. You don’t have to! It would be nice to hear your voice though. Here’s my ID…_

Suddenly the rest of it was irrelevant. Jiho, the pain in his cheek, even Byunchul’s kindness – it was immediately forgotten. He fished his phone out of his bag and opened the app store. He’d only just gotten this phone – he was never hugely fussed about technology but his grandparents had bought him the iPhone that had just come out as a reward for his grades. He hadn’t really spent any time working out that many apps, but now he darted to download KakaoTalk, fingers shaking as he registered his account.

Glancing back at the letter, he tapped in the ID written out. The user appeared immediately in his friend list.

He wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so fast, but he decided not to dwell on it.

_Donghun: Hey, Junhee? It’s Donghun_

He counted the time difference. Junhee would probably be starting school-

_Junhee: DONGHUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN_

The little ping made Donghun jolt, and then his face split into a smile.

_Donghun: Hi :3 I just got your letter so I downloaded this… You okay?_

_Junhee: Yayayayayayay I’m so happy to talk to you without waiting 47647652762 days for you to get what I’m saying_

_Junhee: And I’m just starting Physics *vomiting emoji*_

_Junhee: You done with class? Don’t you have hagwon on fridays?_

_Donghun: Yeah… I’m at home though. Long story, basically, Jiho sort of hit me…_

_Junhee: WHAT?_

_Junhee: Are you okay?!?!_

Donghun paused. He knew he should be more upset, but right now the giddiness from being hit was turning into giddiness from the ellipses that kept appearing when Junhee was typing. To know he was on the other end of the chat, hiding his phone under the desk at school, right this second…

_Junhee: ??_

_Donghun: I’m okay. And I sort of hit him first._

_Junhee: WHAT_

_Junhee: omg_

_Junhee: WHAT HAPPENED_

_Junhee: Did you hit him good_

_Junhee: You’re actually okay though??_

_Donghun: Yeah. Honestly, I’m fine. I don’t want to distract you in class but do you want to call later?_

He waited, nervous.

_Junhee: Yes!! I’ll call you when I’m home. Might be late for you though_

_Junhee: Also, please distract me_

_Donghun: No, go do science._

_Junhee: But I’m bored_

_Junhee: [photo]_

Donghun’s heart skipped; Junhee was flopped forward on his desk, giving a playful pout that he guessed was supposed to look miserable but just made Donghun smile.

_Donghun: Nice try._

_Junhee: FINE. Talk to you later_

~

Donghun was too distracted to settle down that evening. He tried to work, and eventually gave up, making dinner from the ingredients his mom had left out for him and watching a movie instead. He fidgeted the whole time, until finally, just before midnight, his phone vibrated.

_Incoming call: Junhee_

Donghun dropped everything and, holding his breath, pressed the green button and the speaker next to it.

“…Junhee?”

“Donghun!”

That was it. That was all it took. Donghun covered the huge smile on his face with one hand, even though nobody was around to see it.

“How are you feeling? What happened earlier?”

“Oh… Yeah… I’m fine.” Donghun began to speak, but he didn’t care much for talking right now. It was simply crazy to hear Junhee’s voice – just like when he had first seen those photos of him. He quickly explained the fight – omitting the real reason why he had punched Jiho.

“Well I’m glad you’re okay. Who knew, one good fight and now you’re in with the cool kids.” Junhee laughed, and Donghun shut his eyes. It was such a pure and happy sound.

“I don’t know… It might just have been to make me feel better.” He shrugged, even though Junhee couldn’t see him. “I’m not sure.”

“Why not? It would be nice for you to have a group to hang out with in school.” Junhee paused. “Is there something else?”

Donghun stared at the phone, unsure on how to proceed. He didn’t _want_ to say it, but there was something about Junhee that made him want to tell him everything, and that sense had only grown stronger now he had seen him and was listening to his voice.

And after all, he hadn’t told _anyone_. In all this time he had known his own sexuality, he’d never even said it out loud.

And who better to tell than his best friend..?

“Well… Byunchul… I sort of… Well… I used to… have a crush on him.”

“So? All the more reason to hang out with him!” Not even a missed beat, and Junhee laughed, proceeding to tease him. Donghun grinned weakly in relief. That… wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined it to be.

Junhee breezed past his comment, and began to ask him about an anime they were both watching, and Donghun lay on his back, listening to him talk excitedly about his favourite character.

The thing was, he _had_ had a crush on Byunchul – and perhaps he still did. He was handsome, and smart, and his smile was cute, but… He listened to Junhee talking, feeling a warm burn of affection in his chest that he didn’t think he’d ever get from anyone else.

There was no purpose to the feelings, and he knew he would never act on them. But perhaps it was time he admitted that they were there… even if it was just admitting it to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Donghun lamping Jiho was the most satisfying thing to write...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter - and thank you for your kind comments so far! I hope you enjoy watching Donghun and Junhee growing up as much as I do.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At sixteen, Donghun finally snapped - and putting Jiho in his place led him to finding a new friend in Kyo Byunchul from the year above. But more importantly, traded photos and first phone calls made him realise that his feelings for Junhee ran deeper than friendship. Junhee, too, struggled with the way he was feeling - but his mind was preoccupied with the messages from church and the sense of being out of place in Italy.
> 
> At least they have one another, as they grow into young adults. But going to university brings out new challenges, and puts a spotlight on the way they feel for one another...

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun adjusted his headphones over his ears and stood up on his bike pedals. Summer was truly blossoming and the sky over Seoul was a sheet of uninterrupted blue. As he began to cycle, he broke out from the cooling shadows cast by the tall buildings of Seoul National University’s main campus, and the sun hit his face just as wind began to catch his hair. He smiled.

As he weaved through Gwanak-gu, it struck him again that he couldn’t quite believe that in two weeks’ time, he would conclude his second year of university. All those difficult years of detesting school and working until midnight to get here, and now it was flashing by. He supposed that was what happened when you were happy.

His phone pinged as he turned to cycle through the park. He fished into his pocket and glanced down at it.

_Junhee: 100% confident my breakfast is better than yours was today_

_Junhee: [photo]_

Donghun raised an eyebrow at the enormous pile of pancakes, doused in whipped cream, chocolate sauce and pecans. He slowed down cycling so he could use one hand to answer.

_Donghun: How the hell are you still skinny._

_Junhee: I go to the gym_

_Donghun: Really?! You go to the gym?! You’ve NEVER mentioned going to the gym ever, definitely not fifty times a day_

_Junhee: Go fuck yourself_

Donghun snorted and put his phone away as he headed back out onto the road.

These days, he never went a day without speaking to Junhee. They still sent their letters, but they had become more of a tribute to the past; there was something still so warming about getting a handwritten letter arrive unexpectedly. But they sent photos and messaged every day, and made phone calls when they could work out the time difference.

Donghun was long past finding it weird that he’d still never _actually_ met his best friend. In all his time since they had started writing letters, Junhee had returned to Korea only twice, and both times had coincided with times Donghun wasn’t able to go and meet him. And he wasn’t sure if Junhee ever had plans to come back home, but now his friend was finishing up his first year at university in England, so he was still as far away as ever.

He arrived at the little café with the hanging baskets of tumbling pink flowers and locked up his bike. Inside, he was greeted by the welcoming smell of coffee, fresh bread and cinnamon, and a familiar boyish smile from one table.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Donghun smiled, joining Byunchul at his table and accepting the coffee he’d already bought for him. He sipped it gratefully and sank back in the armchair.

“I know. First year lulled me into a false sense of security. Second year’s been a ride.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m twenty-one, I’m getting old. It’s all so exhausting.”

“Yeah. _Ancient_.” Byunchul glared at him, but a smile twitched around his face.

Donghun was extremely grateful to have found a friend in Byunchul. When the older boy had found him getting beaten up by Jiho’s little gang back in school, he’d assumed his offer of friendship was just one made out of pity. But Donghun had actually migrated into the circle of popular kids in the year above, much to the astonishment of his classmates and the antagonism of Jiho. Byunchul’s group far outranked Jiho’s in the pecking order, and no one had dared to pick on him after that – even in his last year, when Byunchul had gone to university, everyone had left him well enough alone.

When Donghun had started university, it had been nice to have a familiar face close by. They didn’t cross paths often – Byunchul was studying Biological Sciences and Donghun was taking Korean Language and Literature – but they still met up from time to time.

“So…” Byunchul swirled his coffee, and Donghun immediately caught the glint in his eyes. “Are you still dating that guy?”

Donghun fought the smirk from his face, shrugging nonchalantly. “I am…” He knew Byunchul was only going to press for more so he continued. “It’s been about… four weeks now?”

“How’s that going?”

“Yeah, good. It’s pretty early days but it’s fun.” Donghun thought about Minjoon; they had met when they had both enrolled in a second year Literature module, but only recently started talking. It turned out Minjoon had a similar taste in books and movies, and meeting for a drink to talk about them had turned into more.

“Uh-huh. And have you..?” Byunchul raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Have we..?” Donghun played dumb, and Byunchul smacked him. “We have. That’s… fun too.”

“I bet,” Byunchul said, giving Donghun a playful glance up and down. “He’s a lucky boy.”

Donghun tutted and fixed him with a _look_ , but it only made Byunchul laugh, and Donghun knew he was joking.

Back in high school, Donghun had been, above all else, relieved to find a friendship group. When Byunchul had suggested they study together, it had been an added bonus – Donghun was cramming hard for his university entrance exam, and spending time with Byunchul was fun. But one night, after studying, Donghun had stayed at his afterwards to watch dramas. First there had been a knee against his, then a hand on his back, and before he could realise what was happening, someone was actually _kissing_ him for the first time.

Whenever he looked back on it, he reminisced on the feeling of guilt he had been flooded with when he had returned home. He’d kissed Kyo _fucking_ Byunchul, but all he’d been able to think about was the way he felt like he was cheating on someone. It had taken him days to process the way he felt, and to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t let his feelings for Junhee – whatever they were – hold him back forever. Because ever since he’d admitted them to himself, he’d known there was no way he could ever act on them. Junhee was straight, they had never met, and they lived thousands of miles apart.

And so, he and Byunchul had let happen what happened. They had never been _dating_ – they were both aiming for SKY, and both knew they had to focus on their studies. But studying was more fun when it ended with them making out, or when Byunchul’s fingers would trace circles over his thighs as he tried to make notes from textbooks. And on the last night before Byunchul had left for university, Donghun had gone over to see him one last time. He hadn’t been quite sure how it had happened, but he’d ended up walking home pink-faced and musing that he’d thought losing his virginity would be somehow a bigger deal than this.

But that was years ago, and now they were nothing more than friends.

“Anyway, enough about me, tell me about science things.”

~

**_Junhee_ **

Everyone had to shout to even stand a chance of being heard; the music was turned up so loud it could be felt, pulsating from the floor. Everything had gotten a little sticky from bottles knocked over by drunk feet.

Junhee crawled over someone else’s lap, reaching for the gin, and it earned him a slap on the ass. He returned to his spot on the floor, squinted at his glass to try and work out what a measure looked like, ended up pouring too much and shrugged.

“Jun-Jun, pour me one…”

Junhee wasn’t so sure about that nickname, especially coming from someone he’d only met two hours ago. But he obliged, filling up the glass of the blonde girl who _kept_ appearing at his side. If she thought her simpering was going to end with her getting laid, she was fresh out of luck.

Everyone shouted as someone drew a card, signalling the downing of their drink. Junhee had lost track of the rules of this game, and at this point was just drinking when someone yelled at him to drink.

Oh look, there was a hand on his leg _again_.

He squirmed away, but ended up giving in to this girl’s claws. He played with the red bracelet on his wrist as distraction. Something in his system was wearing off, and it was leaving him feeling on edge.

“Junhee, you’re up.”

He leaned over the table, weighing up the cards, and then drew one closest to him: the ace of hearts.

“Ohh… Joke’s on you.” Alex sniggered. “‘Take a command from the person to your right.” He swapped a look with Emma. “Gee, wonder what that could be.”

This game was really losing its fun. Junhee was younger than most of the people in the room – the only fresher among the third-years. He knew Alex and a couple of the other boys from playing soccer for the university team, but the rest were new faces. At this point in his life, Junhee easily identified moments of feeling out of place, and this was one of them.

Nevertheless, Junhee looked up at girl next to him, a smile curling her lips up.

“Kiss me.”

Junhee shrank back a little, his eyebrow raised. Her hand was still on his leg, her face expectant. She wasn’t unattractive – she looked a lot like the girl he’d lost his virginity to a couple of years ago, and _that_ was enough to make him feel a bit sick.

“Can I pass..?”

A couple of the boys snorted, and the hand left his leg immediately. Junhee didn’t care to worry about the offended look on the girl’s face.

“Yeah, but you down your drink and take a command from the next person along.” Junhee smothered a sigh, knocking back his gin. Lewis, who was next in line, shot him a grin.

“Kiss _me_?” he said, making the whole room burst into giggles. Junhee’s eyes shot up to find a teasing expression on Lewis’s face, but with it, he waited expectantly. Junhee looked down, ears burning, tracing the ink on his forearm as a distraction.

“Leave him alone, good god…” Alex’s girlfriend swatted at them, saving Junhee from answering.

“Aw, Junhee, you’re such a good Christian boy…”

“Or,” Lewis corrected, a grin on his face. “More like such a good Korean boy.”

They laughed, and the meaning of what Alex said next was lost on Junhee. It was something about being a ‘well-behaved Asian’, some joke about being a hard-working pretty boy, but it wasn’t the words that landed.

He was putting on a fucking _accent_.

Junhee stared at Alex. Simply stared, while the whole room tittered and poured more drinks.

The music, loud as it was, felt suddenly distant.

“What the _fuck_?”

Everyone turned to stare at him, freezing at the sound of his anger. Junhee looked at them all in turn, his face twisted up with incredulity.

“What?” Alex said, raising his eyebrows and spreading his hands. “Oh come on, Junhee, we’re just messing…”

“Do you realise how offensive that is?!” He was suddenly, pressingly aware that every single person in this room was white, and that all of them except Alex were failing to meet his eyes when he looked at them. “Did you just take the piss out of me _using an accent_?”

“Woah, chill out, man.” Alex appealed to those around him. “It’s not even _your_ accent. Come on, you sound more Italian than Korean anyway!”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Junhee felt injustice rising in his throat, and even though he was drunk, he knew he was absolutely within his right to seethe. “Don’t you get-”

“Junhee, come _on_ , stop being a buzzkill.” This time it was Lewis, and it came with an eyeroll. “So what, it’s just an accent. So if I did a French accent, is _that_ offensive?”

Junhee scoffed. “Uh, yes, if you’re doing it to be derogatory.”

“Dude, let it go. No one here is _racist_ , we all have Asian friends…”

Nope. Absolutely not. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t, because if he didn’t leave _right now_ he was going to punch the lights out of someone. He got up abruptly, ignoring the protests, and made for the door, accidentally kicking over a bottle as he went.

The night air was fresh; the cold slapped him and, with the cocktail of alcohol and anger, made him feel light-headed. He stalked from the house, breathing hard, his heart beating so loud he could hear it in his ears.

He knew this would make it awkward at soccer. He knew they’d probably be ranting about him being _sensitive_ right now, giving themselves a nice reassuring pat on the back. Fuck. His fists clenched, and then he pulled out his phone. He had to squint to see the letters, but he managed to make it work.

“Hey, Junheekins. How-”

“I’m _SO_ pissed off.” He knew he was shouting, he could hear it, and then he swore, and he wasn’t even sure which language it came out in. His hands were trembling.

“Hey! Hey, woah, it’s okay. I’m listening. What’s happened?!” Junhee took a shuddering breath. Oh, shit, looked like he was crying. “Junhee, take a deep breath.”

He did as he was told, trying to hold onto the comfort of Donghun’s voice. He exhaled shakily.

“Okay, good. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I was at a house party.” He swallowed. “We were playing drinking games and _firstly_ , this older girl was all over me, and in the game I drew a card and it meant she could tell me what to do and she told me to kiss her and-”

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Junhee stopped, realising he was garbling.

“Sorry… I’m drunk.”

“That’s okay.” Donghun’s voice was so gentle, and Junhee felt the biggest pang of sadness that he was so _unreachably_ far away. “Go on. You were playing a game, and the girl could tell you what to do?”

“Yeah. She got a free command. And she wanted me to kiss her but I passed, and then this guy, Lewis, on the soccer team, he got the command passed to him and he said to kiss _him_ and-” He left off, omitting anything about why that made him feel uncomfortable. “Anyway, when I didn’t, they started taking the piss out of me, they said I was being a ‘good Christian’ and a ‘good Korean’ and then they joked something about ‘hard-working Asians’ but he did it _as_ me, he did it in a bad Korean accent…”

“Fucking hell.” Donghun sounded audibly appalled. “Junhee I’m so sorry, I’m furious for you…”

“You know, don’t they get what it’s like?” Tears were dripping from his chin, and he distantly registered that he’d never even cried on the phone to Donghun before. “I’ve been out of place all my life! They’ll _never_ understand what it’s like to hear those comments, those little stereotypes, when they are _always_ surrounded by people who look like them, and sound like them, living in the country that is their own _fucking_ culture…”

“I know. They won’t. No one can understand that. Even I can’t – I’m angry at those stereotypes but I’ve always lived as a Korean in Korea.” Donghun’s voice was deeply sympathetic and Junhee just wanted to hug him. “You have every right to be angry, Junhee. That’s unacceptable.”

“Yeah.” He wiped his face. “They told me I was being a buzzkill and that it was just a joke. I’m just sick of hearing those jokes, you know? From people that would never take a single second to learn anything about the places I’ve grown up. And they… they told me I don’t even sound Korean.” A fresh tear dripped from his chin. “Like they were trying to tell me I’d lost my right to be offended on behalf of my heritage… Like I’m not Korean anymore…”

“Junhee. What language are you talking to me in right now?”

“…Korean.”

“And where were you born?”

“Korea.”

“And what heritage do _you_ identify with?”

“…Yeah. You’ve got a point.” He sniffed, drying his eyes. “Thanks, Hun.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m so sorry you had to experience something like this.” Junhee heard him sigh, and it was laced with frustration. “Where are you now?”

Junhee stopped abruptly. Fuelled by indignance, he had been walking this whole time, and he wasn’t sure where he was. Everything felt a little fuzzy.

“I… I’m not sure.” He squinted at a street sign. “Magnolia Close, apparently.”

“Okay, well I know you’re going to be on at me for worrying, but I don’t love the idea of you wandering around Manchester at… two in the morning by yourself, drunk.” Junhee stayed mute; he didn’t hate him for worrying. He privately loved when Donghun worried about him. “Stay where you are. Magnolia Close? I’m going to book you a cab.”

“From… Seoul?”

“The internet exists. Stay on the phone.”

Junhee sat on the curb, waiting obediently. Soon enough, the lights of a car pulled up and he hopped into the backseat, grateful of the comfort.

“God, I drank too much gin, too.” He heard Donghun laugh and scowled. “Stop enjoying that.”

“It’s funny. You’re funny when you’re drunk.” Junhee’s scowl melted reluctantly into a smile.

Donghun stayed on the phone for the cab ride, and by the time Junhee got home, he was feeling a little better, a little less alone. He put Donghun on speaker as he banged around, changing into pyjamas clumsily and fetching some water. Eventually, he flopped into bed and fumbled for the phone from the bedside table.

“You should get some sleep. Make sure you drink that water first, or you’ll feel gross tomorrow.”

“I will.” Junhee turned over with a sigh. “Thanks, Donghunnie. I’m sorry for ringing you like this.”

“Stop that. You know I’m always here for you, no matter what.” Junhee nodded, even though he knew he couldn’t see him. “Now remember, don’t let what those assholes said eat away at you. They don’t deserve a second of your time.” Junhee murmured his agreement. “Okay. Go to sleep, my little blossom. Sleep well.”

Junhee thought, for a second, about commenting on that term of endearment. For just a second, it struck him that it was very different to anything Donghun had ever called him before. But he was drunk, and tired, and sleep claimed him before he’d even hung up the phone.

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun was dreaming. Something was tickling his neck, and he squirmed, murmuring. He felt warm, and tingly, and definitely not unpleasant.

He opened his eyes, and immediately gasped. Someone kissed his throat, and as he came to and looked up, someone sank down onto him. He let out a helpless noise. _That_ was not a dream.

“Oh fuck…” He put hands out to Minjoon’s hips. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Minjoon purred against his ear, grinding down lazily onto him. “Sorry to wake you up…”

“No you’re not.” Donghun’s back arched involuntarily, and Minjoon grinned.

They’d had their seventh date last night, and it was about the point Donghun felt like they should stop counting. They’d both agreed that they were only dating each other, and he was excited to see where this took them. And it didn’t hurt that Minjoon, apparently, couldn’t keep his hands off him, because waking up like this was the best alarm he’d ever had.

Donghun was thoroughly blissed out twenty minutes later, and Minjoon grinned as he sat up in bed.

“I’m going to take a shower. Try not to fall asleep again.”

Donghun thought about warning him about his housemates and to tell him to put on some clothes, but he couldn’t quite make himself function. He dozed as Minjoon showered, and dragged himself up when he returned. He pressed a kiss onto the other boy’s wet shoulder and grabbed a towel, wandering blearily to wash up.

His shower woke him up, and he dressed in fresh clothes ready for classes. He had to present his work in his afternoon seminar, and wanted to make sure he had a couple of hours in the library first to go through everything.

Still musing, he returned to his room, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He didn’t really register Minjoon standing over his desk, something in his hand, as he went to open the curtains.

“What the _fuck_ is this?”

Donghun stopped immediately, looking up at Minjoon. His face was incredulous, and he held up a sheet of writing in one hand. Donghun’s stomach lurched.

“I… That’s from my friend. We wrote letters as kids, so we still-”

“You really think I’m going to be dating a guy writing love letters to some boy in England?!” Minjoon scoffed, his cheeks pink. “You said you weren’t seeing anyone else!”

Donghun’s face went hot and he shrank back. University might be a very different experience from school, but those old scars had left him petrified of confrontation. Minjoon’s fiery eyes made him feel suddenly shaky and uncertain, like he was fourteen again.

“It’s not like that…” he managed weakly.

“Oh yeah? So the phone calls he talks about in this letter aren’t true?” Donghun said nothing, and Minjoon held out a hand. “Prove it. Let me see your phone.”

“What?!” Donghun stared at him. This was… _ridiculous_ , wasn’t it? Fuck, they’d been dating for five weeks, and he was asking to see his phone? This was unfair, Junhee _was_ just a friend, and he had absolutely nothing to hide…

Looking back later, he would wonder why on earth he handed over his phone. It was like it was wired into him – for so many years he had frozen and let Jiho do what he wanted, it had become instinct.

Minjoon worked quickly, looking through Donghun’s messages and call log. “Are you fucking kidding me…” he muttered, looking disgusted. His eyes met Donghun’s, and his tone grew nasty. “You’re messaging this guy every day, and two days ago, you had a… _two_ hour phone call with him?” Donghun tried to protest – that had been when Junhee had rang him drunk, what was he supposed to do, leave him crying in the street?! “Donghun, are you kidding me?”

He held up a photo Junhee had sent him. For once in his life, he wished Junhee wasn’t so _infuriatingly_ pretty, because he knew exactly what Minjoon was thinking.

“I swear, nothing has _ever_ happened between us…”

“Like you expect me to believe that,” Minjoon snapped. “This boy? You’re speaking to him every day, and calling him, and sending each other photos. You’re dating _him_ , not me.” Minjoon threw the phone down on the bed and pulled on his sneakers. “Don’t give me the wide-eyed good boy thing and then turn out to have some boyfriend in Europe.”

“Minjoon, _please_ …” Donghun ran after him down the stairs, but Minjoon pulled open the door and left without a backwards glance. “He’s fucking _straight_!”

But it was too late. Donghun let his forehead come to rest against the doorframe with a bump.

He had never dreamed his friendship with Junhee could come between him and someone he was dating. They were two completely different things. He dated to meet a boy, have fun, see where it took them. And Junhee was just… Junhee.

All the anxiety and frustration parted, and a little prickle of guilt began to seep up through the cracks. What if he was at fault here? Nothing ever had happened between the two of them, and Junhee _was_ straight, but… Had he ever thought about Junhee that way? Yes. Since he was about fifteen, he’d had those moments – flutters over his letters, his heart beating faster when he called, twinges of something below his stomach when he saw his photos. But that was all kept in a little mental box, and it was kept sealed up and pushed aside, because it just was what it was. It was stupid, it was misplaced friendship, it was silly confusion… it was _nothing_.

Wasn’t it?

Regardless, it had fucked up his chances with Minjoon. He shut the door, feeling bleak. Was he going to have to make a choice? Keep his best friend… or find someone who loved him?

He headed back upstairs, utterly dejected. His instinct, what he wanted to do in this situation, was to pick up the phone to message Junhee, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not now. He just sadly picked up the letter that had been thrown on the floor, and made himself get ready for class.

~

Donghun was gloomy for a couple of days, but after talking to his housemates one evening and letting them top up his glass with wine several times over, he had started to feel better. They had been quick to call out Minjoon for being out of order, and had reassured Donghun that he had done nothing wrong.

When he cycled onto campus to study one afternoon the next week, he was no longer ruminating on it. He locked up his bike outside the literature department, looking curiously at the unusual number of people milling around inside the building. They all seemed to be peering at something… Sheets of paper tacked to the walls…

“Donghun!” Chao-Xing, his housemate, practically fell out of the door to the department and caught his arms, halting his steps. Her eyes were wide and he looked at her in alarm. “I, um, I don’t know how to tell you this…”

“What’s going on..?” His eyes darted back to the inside, where a couple of students glanced up at him and then hurried away. A great feeling of dread swept through him.

“Hun, I think it was Minjoon…”

He didn’t wait to hear what she said. He pulled himself away and walked inside, his eyes falling on the notes pinned up all over the walls. Black writing had been scrawled on each one, repeating the same message:

_LEE DONGHUN FUCKS BOYS AND IS A CHEATING SLUT_

Every single bit of him turned cold.

“What..?”

He spun around. Every group of students looked at him, whispering behind hands. He saw every look of shock, disgust, curiosity.

Suddenly, he was back in school.

No.

No, he couldn’t do this again.

He wasn’t even _out_. Yes – to his friends, but not to _everyone_.

He couldn’t do this.

He used to run away at school. And now, at twenty-one, he turned and fled, just the same.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee brushed back his sweaty hair, and switched the playlist playing on his headphones. The treadmills in the gym faced big open windows, and he watched the city bustle outside as he ran.

It hadn’t been the easiest of weeks. On the whole, university was great. While Italy had become a second home, and he’d grown up there, it also came to be the place he associated with being the odd one out, and stumbling through language barriers, so he had made the decision to move again when it came to choosing where to study. England had been a fresh start, and one with a language he already spoke near fluently – albeit with his unique accent gained from having grown up in Korea, followed by learning English from Italian teachers.

The incident at the house party had played on his mind, though. Alex and Lewis had been normal with him at soccer practice, offering him a quick apology that he chose to accept to make things easy. He wondered if he had overreacted – he knew they didn’t mean to rile him, and perhaps he should pick his battles.

But it was the little moments like that that got under his skin. Yes, perhaps he _was_ sensitive – but it wasn’t without good reason. He didn’t want any reminders that he was different, and he didn’t want _anyone_ questioning the validity of his heritage. Because if he didn’t belong in Korea anymore… Where did he belong? Was he without a home..?

Something else had been bothering him, as well, and it was even harder to mull over.

He hadn’t liked the joke about getting dared to kiss Lewis. Why would they ask him to do that? Sure, he had been confused at times in his life, but he’d never _actually_ gotten with a guy. He’d only ever slept with women. That meant he was straight, right..? That he would get married and have a family like he had been brought up to believe he wanted, right..?

A very unhelpful little voice joined his inner monologue.

_And what about Donghun..?_

Ugh, that was _different_. Donghun was just… Donghun. He’d just always been _there_. Junhee couldn’t really remember a time before his friendship. Of course Junhee loved him – he was the only person outside his family he had ever loved, but it was different love. Sometimes their friendship just burned so strong that his brain muddled it for something more, that was all. It wasn’t like he thought about him _that_ way…

…much.

He snapped himself from his thoughts and pressed on the treadmill button to slow it to a stop. Sweat was dripping down his back and he had that pleasant workout buzz. He grabbed his towel and water bottle and headed for the changing rooms.

He took a quick shower, dressed, and leaned into the mirror to fix his hair. He’d never felt down on himself for the way he looked, but these days he felt more comfortable in his own skin. Both forearms were decorated with tattoos and he had three piercings in one ear. His favourite decoration was hidden from view: three flowers tattooed in an arc above his hip bone. All of it had been done in the past year in Manchester.

His mom and dad _hated_ it, of course. Even now, he could hear his mom’s dismayed voice: _how are you going to find a nice Christian girl looking like that?!_ But they couldn’t do anything about it, and it helped Junhee feel more like himself.

He put his bag over his shoulder and headed out onto the street. The walk home wasn’t far, and he cut through the park to take the scenic route. As he wandered, lost in his thoughts, his phone rang.

He went cold as he answered it.

As soon as the line connected, he could hear sobbing. Raw, heart-wrenching sobbing that made every cell in his body turn icy. He stopped dead, his eyes unseeing.

“Hunnie? What…”

“Junhee…” Donghun’s voice was high and broken, and succumbed immediately to those desperate cries. But there was something else – it sounded distant, echoey, like he was on a hands-free…

“Donghun, where are you? Are you driving?!”

“Yeah…”

Junhee grabbed the railings around the park’s pond, his eyes casting over the water desperately. “Donghun. Pull over right _fucking_ now.” His voice grew pleading. “Please. It’s not safe to drive like this.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Junhee waited, his heart thumping, until he could hear himself get taken off the car system and picked up on Donghun’s phone.

For a long minute, he just listened to him crying. A lump rose in his throat, and he blinked back his own tears. Whatever it was, he’d fix it. Whatever he needed, he’d give it to him. Anything, _anything_ , to make him stop crying.

“Donghunnie..? Do you want to tell me what’s happened?”

For a moment, he could hear Donghun struggle to compose himself enough to speak. Then-

“You know that guy I was dating? Minjoon?” Junhee murmured an affirmation; was he this upset about that boy..? “He broke up with me. He found one of your letters and he thought I was cheating on him.”

“What?” Junhee’s heart skipped a beat, and he _loathed_ the mixture of feelings that scenario made him feel. He bashed them down and forced himself to focus on Donghun. “That’s absurd.”

“I mean, yeah, but he was so angry, and Junhee, you know how pathetic I am when someone’s angry with me.” He sobbed again, and it was full of self-loathing. Junhee felt sick. “He went through my phone and stuff and he said my messages to you were proof and he left. And then today I went to go to class and… and… and…”

“Take your time.” Donghun broke down into fresh tears, and he waited patiently.

“Everyone was hanging around whispering. And there were these… notes spread everywhere, like tacked to the walls, all over the Lit department…” Junhee’s knuckles tightened on the railing. Oh _god…_ “Junhee, I don’t want to tell you… I can’t say it…”

“You can do this, Hunnie, you can tell me… It’s just me…”

“It _outed_ me, Junhee. It said I fuck guys and it said I cheat and called me a slut.”

Donghun cracked, and began to weep, hard. And Junhee felt a kind of way he’d never felt in his life.

“I’m going to kill him.” His voice, as he spat the words, didn’t even sound like his own. It was a low, visceral growl. “I’m going to fucking _end_ him, Donghun, mark my _fucking_ words-” His mind raced, and he forced himself to take a breath; it shuddered as it left his lungs. “Where are you?”

“I left.”

“Left where?”

“Seoul. I went straight home and packed my things and I’m driving back to Suwon.”

Junhee rubbed his forehead. He guessed it was the end of term next week anyway. He tried to organise his thoughts, turn the red-hot anger into something useful, but Donghun spoke again before he could make it there.

“I can’t do this again.” There was a note of hysteria in his voice, and Junhee felt a stab of fear. “I can’t. If everyone turns on me like school I… I can’t. I can’t go back. I can’t live with that again, okay?! I _can’t_ …”

“Stop.” Junhee’s voice turned firm and Donghun’s crying stopped abruptly. “Donghun, this isn’t middle school. _No one_ is going to turn on you. You have friends, you have Chao-Xing and Dae and Byunchul and everyone else, and they aren’t going to turn on you because of some psycho who’s done something crazy to you. Okay? They’re going to _show up_. That’s what friends do. And the rest of your classmates aren’t going to care. They’ll go home for summer and forget about it. And even if they don’t: one, they will understand that you’re a victim in this. They’re fucking SKY students, they’re not idiots from school. And two, it’s not 1950, Donghun. No one cares that you’re gay.”

“Maybe not in England…”

“Donghun. They won’t. Okay? And if anyone dares so much as _look_ at you differently, I swear to god, I’ll be there, I’ll protect you, I always will…”

It was quiet for a moment. Donghun’s tears quietened to sniffles.

“Listen. It’s okay to cry. You can cry all you need. But right now, you just need to get home safely. Just put on some music, and take it easy. Please… can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Yeah… I can.”

“Just call me as soon as you’re back home. We’ll work this out.”

“…Thank you.”

“Okay.” Junhee took a deep breath. “Just focus on driving safe, alright? You’re going to be okay. I love you, you dummy.”

“Yeah… I love you too,” Donghun croaked. Despite everything, despite the venom in Junhee’s veins, it was nice to finally say that to his friend, and show him he cared.

As the phoneline disconnected, Junhee leaned his forearms on the railings. His hands still shook.

It completely broke his heart. Donghun was the sweetest, smartest, kindest person he’d ever known, so _why_ was the world treating him this way? Hadn’t he suffered enough? His entire school life had been plagued with pain, and he’d still come through it all to get into a SKY university. And he’d embraced himself, and been brave enough to come out… And now he was _finally_ flourishing into this beautiful adult and… Junhee swore under his breath. It wasn’t _fair_.

This time, he had to do something. He couldn’t let Donghun be alone again; he couldn’t let him doubt himself, because he’d worked so hard for so long to make Donghun love himself the way _he_ loved him.

Still light-headed, he hitched his bag on his shoulder and headed for home.

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun knew he needed to stop moping around. He was on his fourth day holed up in his old room, burying himself into books and comforting himself with comics. At least with them, he could disappear out of this world and forget how humiliated he was by what had happened back in Seoul.

His friends had all been in touch – Junhee had been right, they had shown up, even offered to come and stay with him. But he needed some space away from it all.

His mom had thought someone had died when he had turned up crying on the doorstep unannounced. He had crumpled into her hug and told her everything. And then she had made him _sundubu-jjigae_ and they had eaten ice cream out of the tub and watched re-runs of an old drama, just like they used to do after bad days at school.

All that brought him a little bit of comfort, but he was still struggling not to go over and over what had happened in his head. Already, he thought about returning in the new academic year, and how people would treat him. He’d go back… of course he’d go back – he’d worked too hard to get to that university and he was going to graduate one way or another. But for now, the idea weighed heavy on his mind.

His mom always worked late on Fridays, and he sat in the living room alone, watching a show and absently sketching a comic strip. He was thinking about ordering some food when the doorbell rang. He sighed, rolling off the sofa and padding to the hallway.

He pushed back his hair as he opened the front door, and he froze.

A pair of familiar dark eyes met his.

Donghun couldn’t move.

“Junhee..?!”

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ End of Part III ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger ahoy..!
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it. Writing characters developing through so many years of their lives can be challenging, but I hope you're enjoying following their stories!
> 
> I just wanted to say, I was especially touched that a couple of you said you related to the issues faced by the boys or that reading this provided a bit of comfort. I really can't tell you how much that warms my heart - the reason I write at all is to explore issues that I feel need to be explored, and create characters that you can identify with. Oh, and for fun too! But truly, if these little stories bring you a grain of comfort, I'm the happiest writer in the world.
> 
> Chapter four's a bigggie - see you then.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> University has proven a welcome fresh start for Donghun, and he is flourishing in one of Korea's top literature courses. Junhee, too, has had another new beginning, this time in England. 
> 
> Everything got tipped upside down for Donghun when the boy he was dating made a desperate bid to besmirch his name, but in the height of his unhappiness, someone very familiar has just turned up on his doorstep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be dragons..! A reminder that mature themes lie ahead.

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun just stood in the doorway, blank.

The boy looking back at him looked apprehensive – but also hopeful, and excited, and… his hands were shaking. Donghun couldn’t help but fix on it. Trembling fingers, playing with his sleeves.

“Hunnie…”

His voice - it sounded like childhood and home. And it sounded slightly off, because he’d only ever heard it on the phone. Had he fallen asleep and started dreaming? Had something happened on the drive home after all, and this was a hallucination, only it wasn’t, because strong arms circled around him and pulled him close and that soft jumper was real, that warm skin was real…

He finally started to function, and he grabbed Junhee hard, burying his face in his shoulder.

He heard Junhee let out a breath of laughter, and he did the same, only maybe there were tears threatening too.

It was a long time while neither moved. They just hung on tight to each other in the doorway, the sun setting behind them and casting their blended shadows into the hallway.

Eventually Junhee pulled away, holding Donghun’s shoulders as he looked at him, a smile splitting his face.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

Donghun searched him, helplessly lost. “…Why the fuck are you here?”

Junhee burst out laughing, his eyes creasing with smile lines. Donghun laughed too, only tears made a bid for freedom out the corners of his eyes at the same time.

“You need your best friend right now. So I came.” It was simple, and still enough to make Donghun’s bottom lip wobble. “I’d put some money aside to come visit my grandparents at some point. But I figured you need me more. I’ll drop by theirs before I fly back.”

“I… You… How long are you here?” Donghun still hadn’t stopped clutching Junhee’s jumper, because he was afraid that if he let go, his friend might disappear.

“Five nights. If I can stay. I, er… I came to Suwon but I sort of have nowhere else to go.” Junhee grinned, and Donghun only now noticed the silver suitcase behind him.

“Of course you can stay. I… I… I…” He stopped trying, because no words would do. He shrugged helplessly.

“Yeah. I know.”

Donghun led Junhee inside, feeling a lot like he was walking through a dream. He gave him a brief tour of downstairs, his words tumbling over one another, and Junhee followed him, bright eyed.

“Hey, Hunnie? You can let go of my top, you know. I won’t run away.” Donghun looked up dumbly, and then went pink and withdrew his hand as he realised he had been holding onto Junhee this whole time. Junhee looked at him, his own face a little pink. “I know… This is fucking crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Donghun peered at him closely. “Like… it’s actually you.”

And then, simultaneously, they let out something close to a squeal, and jumped to hug each other again, dancing on the spot and laughing into each other’s shoulders. Pure, sheer, unabashed happiness swept through Donghun and left no room for anything else. His best friend. Someone he had waited eight _years_ to meet. Dozens and dozens of letters, hour upon hour on the phone, thousands of messages, and now he was _here_. From the other side of the world, for him, because he needed him.

They were interrupted, when they pulled apart, by a growl. Donghun raised an amused eyebrow and Junhee looked sheepish.

“Um… sorry, I’m starving.”

An hour later, they sat cross-legged on the living room floor, an obscene amount of takeout spread amongst them. It felt the way evenings were supposed to feel – they chattered non-stop, completely comfortable. Donghun didn’t know if this was supposed to feel weird, if he was supposed to get shy because technically, they’d never met before, but… it was just _right_. Like a jigsaw piece had simply been slotted into its rightful place.

“Are you looking at my tattoos or have I spilled something on me?” Junhee looked down at himself, checking his jeans for food.

“Your tattoos.”

Junhee held out his forearms with a grin. “What, you never seen tattoos before?”

“Of course,” Donghun said with an eyeroll. “I mean… I’ve seen them in passing. Not like…” He trailed off, accepting Junhee’s arm and running a finger down the colours. “Huh. That’s crazy.”

“It’s really normal in England. Basically everyone has one. I’ve got this one too.” He pulled up his jumper and tugged down the waistband of his jeans an inch. At first, Donghun noticed with a guilty twinge his flat abs and defined v-lines, but he choose to look closer at the three watercolour flowers that ran in an arc above his hip bone. “A mugunghwa hibiscus, a lily, and a rose. The national flowers of Korea, Italy and England.”

Donghun looked up at him, softening. “You never told me about this one…”

Junhee looked down at his own ink. “Yeah… It’s lame though, isn’t it.”

“Not at all.” Donghun bit back the smirk that quipped to his mouth. “Can tell you go the gym…”

Junhee let his jumper hide his stomach and shot Donghun a grin. “Hey, did I ever tell you I go the gym, I’m not sure if I ever mentioned-”

“I’ve waited _SO LONG_ to whack you round the face for mentioning the fucking gym!” Junhee laughed under Donghun’s attack, grabbing his arms and wrestling him to the floor. Donghun struggled, but stopped as a flash of red caught his eye. “Hey, are you still wearing your bracelet..?”

Junhee looked at his own wrist. “Oh, yeah. I’ve always worn it since I made them. Never took it off…”

“Same.” Donghun held up his own hand; a slightly frayed loop of red thread still encircled his arm. Their eyes met with a smile.

Late into the evening, they cleared everything away, and Donghun fetched pillows and blankets and threw them on the sofa.

“Thanks,” Junhee yawned, shuffling into the front room with his hair pushed back in a headband from washing up.

Donghun shot him a look. “It’s not for you. You can sleep upstairs in my room. Nope-” He cut off Junhee’s protesting. “No buts, you just took an eleven hour flight. You’ve earned a proper bed. And besides, my mom’ll come home from work and she’ll freak out if she sees some tattooed weirdo asleep in our living room.” He grinned and accepted the pillow to the face.

“’Kay. Goodnight and stuff.”

“’Night.” Donghun watched him head upstairs, unable to bite back his smile.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee woke himself up murmuring. He had been dreaming in Italian, and he blinked hazily, his early morning thoughts drifting from Italian to English. He rubbed his eyes. It was so _hot_ , what was going on? He sat up in an unfamiliar bed, and then remembered he was in Korea.

He stretched, looking around Donghun’s room, a little smile creeping onto his face. A stack of belongings were still chucked in one corner from where he had returned from university, but the rest of the room had that sense of a time capsule, a room no longer lived in for most of the year. Prints were tacked to the wall, books flooded shelves and spilled onto the floor. Junhee got out of bed and went to look at them, tilting his head to read the titles. It was strange to think that this was where his best friend used to be all those years ago when they had started to write. He looked at the desk beneath the window, filled with notebooks and a stack of comics. He could almost imagine a tiny little Donghun sat here, tongue between his teeth as he wrote out those early letters.

Junhee felt a wistful tug in his chest.

He yawned again and crept downstairs. He could just make out bare feet sticking out from under a blanket, and he grinned as he climbed on top of the sleeping mass underneath. There was a muffled grumble underneath him.

“Wha-?” Donghun struggled to pull the blanket from over his face, and appeared blinking and puffy. He raised an eyebrow at Junhee. “You’re so annoying.”

Nevertheless, he stroked Junhee’s hair, and it sent tingles down his back.

“You know, I’d make you breakfast if you got off me.” Junhee shrugged, refusing to budge. “I’d make… pancakes.”

“Pancakes!” Junhee’s head shot up, and he rolled off Donghun and onto the floor to let him up. “Why didn’t you say so.”

As he got together breakfast, Donghun told Junhee that he’d spoken to his mom last night, when she came in from work, about his arrival. This morning she had headed out to stay with Donghun’s aunt for a few days. When Junhee expressed guiltiness for her feeling she had to leave, it was waved away.

“She just wants to give us space, she knows how long we’ve waited to actually spend time together in person. And she’ll be glad to get a break from my moping.”

Junhee sat at the kitchen table, watching Donghun make food. Being here, he couldn’t quite get his head around _this_ boy being the one who had been bullied relentlessly all his life. Obviously, Junhee had already known he was smart, fun, kind… But seeing him in person made it even more ludicrous. He was just so… _warm_. And now someone was threatening his happiness, yet again…

“So… Are you gonna be okay? After what happened?”

Donghun placed two plates of stacked pancakes on the table, and slid into his seat. He didn’t look up to meet Junhee’s eyes.

“I’ve…” He paused, and laughed humourlessly. Junhee waited quietly. “I’ve never been called a slut before.”

Junhee’s heart hurt at the sight of his sad face. “You’re not, though. You know that, right?”

“But I… I’ve…”

“Hunnie, no.” He looked up at Junhee’s firm voice. “Don’t let that get into your head. You sleep with people you date, that doesn’t make you a slut. And fuck it, if you slept with a hundred boys, it’s still no one’s damn business. It’s your life. But that’s not the point. You did nothing wrong. He was just trying to drag you down.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Donghun sighed, eating a mouthful of pancake. “Guess I’ll just have to see what it’s like when I go back in September.”

Junhee ate quietly for a minute, unsure whether to progress with what he wanted to say. “I… I’m sorry if there was something in my letter that made Minjoon angry.” He watched for Donghun’s reaction. A part of him wanted to know if he was at fault for making Minjoon think he was reading a love letter… but an even greater part of him wanted to know if Donghun had ever read his letters that way.

“No. Don’t be silly.” Donghun made a face, still looking down at his breakfast.

It was quiet for a long minute until Donghun spoke again.

“You know I’d pick you over any boy, right?” Junhee looked up, forgetting to eat, and Donghun waved his hands. “That sounded weird. I mean… If anyone ever had a problem with you and I being friends… I would never choose them over you. No matter who they were.”

Junhee cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’d do the same. No girl would ever be more important to me than you.”

It sounded like platitudes, but Junhee watched Donghun, watched that boy play absently with his food while a tiny smile and a pink glow crept onto his face, and he knew that every single word was true.

~

“Woah…”

Junhee’s eyes widened. He’d already spent two nights here in Suwon, and Donghun had spent their second full day together showing him the city. They’d cycled up to the trails at Gwanggyosan, and they emerged from trees now to look down over the entire city from up high as the sun set beyond. Lights were beginning to appear like lanterns across buildings, and the sky dissolved to warm caramel.

“Right?” Donghun agreed, putting out one foot as they stopped at the top of a grassy slope. “It’s always been my favourite place in the city.” He shot a sly grin at Junhee. “Race you down.”

“Hey!” Junhee protested as Donghun already pushed off, following in hot pursuit. He stood up, the wind rushing through his hair, and he caught Donghun’s laughter from beside him. Junhee wasn’t sure why he was laughing, but it made him laugh too. The sunset light bathed Donghun’s face in amber, and Junhee found that he couldn’t stop looking over and smiling at him.

Back on the outskirts of the city, they stopped off for a drink, locking their bikes outside a pretty restaurant with potted plants filling the outdoor space.

“Oh man, can we order chicken later?” Junhee groaned as he watched the table next to them tuck into their food. “Literally no country on earth does fried chicken like here.”

Donghun sniggered. “Of course.” He propped his chin on his hands and traced the edge of his glass. “Do you miss Korean food?”

Junhee shrugged. “I guess. But my only real memory of Korean food is my mom and dad’s cooking in Italy, with the limited ingredients we could get.” He thought back to when they first moved; these days, it was getting easier to find imported ingredients in Europe, but back then even ramen was like gold dust. “But when I come back here, I remember all the things I used to have growing up.” He looked down into his drink. “It’s nice.”

“It’s still your home,” Donghun said, and Junhee hesitated.

“Is it?” He looked up with a faint shrug. A familiar pang of sadness slipped through him.

“Well… Where’s home feel like? To you?” Donghun’s voice was gentle, and it made Junhee sigh again. How was he supposed to give an answer to that?

For a moment, he sat listening to families talk about their days in Korean, the ever-so-specific smells of gochujang and kimchi and all those familiar ingredients, in the dry heat of a summer evening. They were all things he related to his earliest years, in those foggy memories that got more and more distant the older he got.

“Junhee?” He looked up to find Donghun looking at him with sad eyes. He tried to smile.

“I wish I knew.” He drew lines in the condensation on his glass. “Growing up, moving around, my life has felt really… impermanent. My early childhood was in Korea, and then from ten I was in Italy, and now England.” He paused. “When I moved to Italy, I felt so different. I didn’t speak Italian nor English, and I was basically the only Asian in my town. Or… person of colour, at all.” He met Donghun’s eyes nervously. He’d never spoken about this… to anyone. “And it’s not _that_ big a deal, I mean… It’s not like the other kids didn’t like me. It was the opposite, I was always pretty popular. So I don’t like to complain…”

“You’re allowed to talk about this.” Donghun looked at him frankly. “I’m not going to start comparing our childhoods. Just because you weren’t bullied doesn’t mean it was easy.”

“I guess. Well… yeah. It was just always me, in a sea of white faces. My friends would laugh about stuff – the food I ate, or when I got words wrong… So I tried really hard to get rid of the things that made me different. I learned English and Italian as quickly as I could, started eating Italian food. I mean, I would tell my mom not to give me anything Korean for lunch.” Stickiness in his throat caught him off-guard. Fuck, why did he feel so sad talking about this..? “I ditched everything Korean about me to fit in.”

“That’s… really sad.” Donghun was looking at him carefully, and Junhee swallowed.

“But I never got there. I never felt like I fitted in, not really. That’s why I wanted to leave Italy when I went to uni. And in a big English city, at a uni with lots of international students, I guess I don’t exactly stand out anymore. But then things happen like that house party, things that remind me that I’m… I’m always different. When people are…” He trailed off, searching for the term.

“Racist?”

“No, no,” Junhee said quickly, but Donghun looked at him pointedly. “I mean… I guess so…”

“Racism isn’t just blatant proclamations of hating someone based on their skin, you know. It can be in the little things, too…”

“I guess.” This was all simultaneously extremely difficult to verbalise, and wildly cathartic. He searched for the right words, emboldened by Donghun’s gentle encouragement. “I think sometimes… Ugh, I hate trying to say this.” He almost flinched at the hand that slid to touch his wrist, and then welcomed it. “Like, I think girls fetishize me?” He felt himself turn red and grimaced a little. “I get it, we all have preferences but… Sometimes girls will make it really clear that they don’t see a person beyond just a skin colour and… it’s weird.”

“That’s… upsetting.”

“Yeah. But it is what it is.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back to Korea?” That hand on his wrist stayed there, a warm comfort.

“I don’t know.” Junhee heard the catch in his own voice and cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I thought about it. When I was leaving Italy. I thought about coming back here to study.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But…” He sighed. “I was too afraid. I haven’t been in Korea for so long. When I’m back here I…” He looked around at the people on other tables, shaking his head. “Maybe I never fit in in Italy… And I don’t feel like I’m ‘at one’ with England… But then I come back here and… and all those years of trying to rid myself of my ‘Korean-ness’ and now… Now I feel out of place here, too.”

The hand on his wrist became fingers around his own, and he accepted them. “You’re not out of place, Junhee, you-”

“But I am.” He shocked himself by having to blink away tears. He didn’t know what was making him choke more – the way he felt, or the look of pure sympathy on Donghun’s face. “Do you know I _think_ in English?” He let out a breath of mirthless laughter. “I don’t think in my mother tongue anymore. I dream in English or Italian, and then my thoughts are English. I only speak in Korean with my parents, and you. And not that long ago… I had to…” He swallowed, burning with shame. “I had to Google Translate a word in one of your letters.” He stopped, his face hot with disappointment in himself. “I’m forgetting it. I’m forgetting my own language.”

“Junhee…”

“And that’s what those guys at the party said too, right? I sound more Italian than Korean? You hear it, don’t you? The accent when I speak Korean..?” He brushed back his hair, frustrated. “So, the really long answer to your question is… what if I don’t belong anywhere – Italy, England, nor Korea? What if… I don’t have a home?”

For a moment, it was quiet, save the children giggling on the table next to them and the birds singing their evening chorus.

“Junhee.” He looked up as Donghun squeezed his fingers. “I’m not going to pretend I understand what it’s like to move around like you have. But I can see how it can have left you feeling so displaced. But… all the places you’ve lived – you’ve only gained those placed as homes.” He looked helpless. “England and Italy are your homes because you made a life in both of those places – no matter the way other people have made you feel. But most importantly, no one can ever take away your heritage, Junhee. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone, it doesn’t matter the words you forget… Korea will _always_ be a home for you, if you want it to be. You’re still just as Korean as me. You know that, right?”

Junhee struggled for a long moment, his throat constricting. “You’re gonna make me cry,” he managed accusatorily, dragging a sleeve across his eyes and sniffing.

“Well. You know you can always talk to me about these things.” Donghun squeezed his hand. “How about we get you home and get you some chicken..?”

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun sighed, watching the characters in the drama with wistful eyes. The protagonist was an author, and – as to be expected with dramas – had just successfully ‘got the girl’. Now she read his books as the boy looked on lovingly. He wasn’t sure which bit he envied more – getting published, or having someone to share it with.

His legs ached from cycling all day, and he was happily curled up on a pillow, his entire body bunched around a great heaped armful of duvet. As the episode ended, Junhee stretched and yawned next to him.

“One more episode before bed? I’m taking the sofa tonight,” he cut in, before Donghun could protest. “Look at you, all curled up. No way I could kick you out to sleep downstairs.”

Donghun looked up at him, feeling a flutter in his stomach. Today had been special, sharing his hometown with Junhee – but more than that, Junhee had opened up about his sense of displacement. It made him unhappy, knowing he felt that way, but at the same time, he felt privileged to be let in on something so personal.

“Just stay.” He shrugged. “We might as well share.”

“I’m too tired to argue.” Junhee flopped back against the pillows next to him.

Donghun flicked the light off and the room went dark, albeit it for the light of the laptop screen. For a long moment, it was quiet as they watched. A little rustle of covers, and Junhee shifted closer, leaning his head against the top of Donghun’s.

“Is that even comfortable?” Donghun murmured, and Junhee sighed, tugging on his arm.

“Nope. Just come here and cuddle me.”

Donghun obliged, shuffling under the arm Junhee offered out. He hesitated before resting his head against his chest and draping one arm loosely around his waist.

“This main guy reminds me of you,” Junhee commented, as they turned their eyes back to the drama.

“That’s what I’m going to be.” Donghun said, half to himself. “A writer. Writing my own books. Seeing them on shelves in bookshops.”

“You’ll do it. I don’t doubt that.” Junhee stroked Donghun’s head, and then kept his hand there, playing absently with his hair.

Donghun was not entirely convinced that this was a good idea. He was suddenly trying very hard to keep himself quiet, and ignore the fact every goosebump on his skin had just lit up. He was overly conscious of his own arm tucked across Junhee’s toned stomach, pressingly aware of the arm wrapped around him in return. He could hear Junhee’s heartbeat through his chest, and it made it near on impossible to pay attention to anything else.

For years, every furtive flutter, every questionable feeling – he’d locked it all away in a little box. Yes, he’d acknowledged it was there, but it was something to never dwell on. Something to hope would fade away, because it’s not like he could ever do anything about it.

The trouble was, lying on his chest had knocked the lid off the box and now it was all rapidly spilling out.

There were two things – firstly, the last forty-eight hours had been some of the best in his whole life. Being around Junhee was filling him with such happiness. And secondly, god, he was _so_ gorgeous. It was devastating. He swallowed hard now, glancing at the tattooed forearm Junhee left resting in his lap, the red thread encircling his wrist. Donghun felt an extraordinarily strong surge of… something.

There was no delusion – he felt all these feelings for his straight best friend, and he knew it. And he would never let those feelings make Junhee uncomfortable or affect their friendship. But he supposed he was only human, and right now, he could let himself saturate with bliss at the feeling of fingers coiling absently into his hair.

As the episode ended, Junhee closed the laptop, sending the room dark, and shifted to put it on the bedside table. Donghun moved to get comfortable, but Junhee came back for him, pulling him close and wrapping one arm around him. Donghun let out a slow, measured breath, and hugged him back until they fell asleep.

~

**_Junhee_ **

“Donghun. Why the _fuck_ have you never shown me this?”

Across the room, Donghun stopped, eyes wide, a towel to his hair. Junhee held up the stack of paper he was reading through, incredulous.

“It’s really not great. I need to rewrite so many parts and-” Junhee got up and smacked him with his own manuscript. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Your writing is incredible, and you’re blind to it.” He sat down at Donghun’s desk again, pulling up his feet on the chair and flicking on a lamp against the darkening evening. He flicked through the pages. “This is the sort of stuff I’d pay money to read.” Donghun gave a non-committal noise and sat down to dry his hair, water running down his back.

Junhee carried on reading, but his eyes flicked up to Donghun. Last night, he’d given in to whatever weird, sleepy, emotional way he was feeling and clung onto him as they fell asleep. He’d woken up still wrapped up with him, Donghun fast asleep on his chest and his hand clutching his t-shirt. Normally when Junhee woke up with someone, he carefully detached himself, quick to make his excuses to leave. But he couldn’t remember waking up with someone who made him want to stay in bed for an endless five minutes more.

He wasn’t really sure what that meant.

“Shall we have a drink?” Junhee snapped from his thoughts guiltily as Donghun stood up and pulled on a shirt. “Pretty sure my mom has an endless supply of soju downstairs.”

“Oh, you know I’m always up for that.”

Junhee liked sitting in Donghun’s kitchen – it was a small house, but everything felt lovingly-crafted. It was like a little slice of home.

“I feel like I haven’t drunk much in ages,” Junhee said as they downed their first shots.

Donghun snorted. “That’s a lie. You were wasted on the phone after that party.” He grinned, pouring them another measure.

“Yeah.” Junhee raised his eyebrows, having flashbacks to the hangover. “Well… I mean… I wasn’t just drunk.” He smiled guiltily as Donghun looked up.

“What..?” He searched Junhee’s face, his soju glass forgotten halfway to his face. “What do you mean? Junhee, were you high?!”

Junhee couldn’t help his amusement at Donghun’s expression, and he drank from his glass. But Donghun’s crestfallen look made him feel guilty.

“I know you really don’t have to listen to me, but… I’d really like it if you didn’t take anything like that.”

Junhee laughed a little. “It was just mandy, Hunnie, I’m not gonna die…”

“I know that.” Donghun held his gaze and Junhee’s stomach lurched. “But it impairs your judgement and I don’t want to think you’d ever be in a bad situation. I want to always know you’re safe.”

Ah – there it was again. That strange little flutter whenever Donghun worried about him. Hell, Junhee even liked it when he was disapproving, when that tone of authority slipped into his voice and made him feel like he was getting scolded…

He drank quickly as he started to flush.

“Please?” Donghun gave him a pleading look, and Junhee smiled.

“Okay, okay. I won’t do it again. For you.” His voice softened. “I don’t want to make you worry.”

They drank together for the evening, swapping stories. It dawned on Junhee that they never seemed to run short of things to talk about together. It also dawned on him that neither of them seemed intent on staying up late tonight, both keen to get into bed for the night.

“There’s something about a soju buzz that’s just the best.” Junhee flopped onto bed, wriggling out of his t-shirt. Donghun padded over in pyjamas and lay down next to him. “It’s so warm.” He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Aren’t you warm?”

“I’m fine. I could never sleep in just underwear. You’re weird.”

“ _You’re_ weird.” Junhee shoved him as he turned out the light. He lay looking at the ceiling, feeling a little light-headed from the soju. He wanted to…

Donghun came to curl up close to him first, beating him to it. Junhee bit back a smile in the dark.

For a while, Donghun was just curled with his head against Junhee’s shoulder, but eventually he slipped one hand up to rest on Junhee’s chest. Junhee watched his fingers play absently with his necklace, feeling like his heart was beating a little too fast.

He paused, and then turned onto his side, even though it meant they were lying facing each other and-

And he stopped caring. With shy fingers, he touched Donghun’s collarbone where his t-shirt had slipped. In return, Donghun’s fingers trailed down his chest, down his stomach – he twitched – and started to trace the tattoo on his hip bone, his dark eyes watching as he followed the outlines. Junhee let out a shaky breath, and knew it was probably audible.

Who knew how long he traced that tattoo for, starting at the flower nearest his naval, and skimming down lower to the leaves of the rose. Junhee was completely empty of thoughts. It crossed his mind that wearing nothing but boxers was leaving him really exposed to the way this was making him feel… But if Donghun felt it, would he even mind..?

Those light fingertips froze as Junhee pushed a hand up under Donghun’s t-shirt. Just a little at first… then little circles up to his chest… He closed his eyes as he ran a thumb over one nipple, hooked on the way it instantly reacted to his touch, hardening as he played gently between finger and thumb.

“We should go to sleep, shouldn’t we..?” Junhee whispered it more to convince himself than Donghun as he gently withdrew his hand from his shirt.

“Yeah…” Donghun’s whisper was barely audible. “Yeah, we should.”

“Okay.” Junhee hesitated, then rolled onto his back, creating some space between them where before there had been nothing but heat.

He closed his eyes, accepting the fingers that brushed his own, and slipped his hand into Donghun’s to sleep.

~

**_Donghun_ **

Already, it was Junhee’s last day in Suwon. Donghun was determined to make the most of every last second. Except every minute of the day, he couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

He was exaggerating it in his memory. He had to be. Whatever the hell he was feeling was making him read into it more than he should… But those fingers running along his collarbone, the way Junhee had let him stroke his stomach, the goddamn hand reaching under his shirt… That had _happened_ , and he had absolutely no useful thoughts on it.

They did an excellent job of pretending it hadn’t happened, though.

They went cycling past Donghun’s old school, ate dinner out, and everything was normal. Donghun didn’t even get into a spiral of anxiety and self-doubt, which normally he would _always_ do if he was unsure of someone else’s intentions.

Until it was time for bed, and Donghun suddenly became aware of every cell in his own body.

“I can’t believe I have to leave tomorrow.” Junhee looked wistfully at the ceiling. “Wish I could stay twice as long.”

“Me too.” Donghun got into bed.

“You going to be okay? You feeling a bit better?”

If truth be told, Donghun had almost entirely forgotten about Minjoon and the prospect of returning to Seoul. The nervousness of what people would think – that was still there, but that desperate self-loathing he had felt on the drive home to Suwon had magically evaporated in the last few days.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“’Course you will.” Junhee shifted next to him with a yawn. “’Night.”

“Night…”

Donghun turned away a little. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed to be falling asleep untouched-

Fingers reached out for his.

Just a simple little touch, for a minute or two, and then Junhee shifted up close, wrapping an arm across him. Donghun instantly turned to face him, keeping his eyes down. Fingers started to play with his hair, and he was drawn again to the ink on Junhee’s hip, only he had to tug down the waistband of his underwear a fraction this time to get at it…

He swore he heard Junhee let out a little gasp.

The hand on Donghun’s hair disappeared, and reappeared tracing lines down his spine…

Donghun shifted, and his forehead touched Junhee’s.

He could feel his breath against his cheek. Abandoning his tracing, he slid a hand over Junhee’s upper arm, across the curve of muscle there.

They both moved fractionally. Their noses brushed.

Donghun’s bottom lip grazed across Junhee’s…

…And he sank into their kiss.

Instantly, Junhee’s tongue was deep in his mouth, and Donghun arched his back, putting a hand on the back of Junhee’s head to reach for him harder. His entire body responded, and he let out a muffled noise.

It was desperate. They both yanked each other closer, hands on each other’s backs, tongues still melting into one another’s. Junhee reached first to cup Donghun’s face, then slide hands down his chest, his stomach, then they moved and nails were gliding up his thighs. Donghun broke from their kiss to gasp for breath. He stared at Junhee, his lip stinging – his friend was breathing hard, his eyes dilated. Junhee leaned back in to kiss him, took Donghun’s hand, and slid it down the front of his body until-

“Fuck,” Donghun breathed. “Oh fuck, Junhee…”

He got on top of him, pressing himself down into that intoxicating hardness. Junhee’s hands grabbed his hips, encouraging his grinding, and it was almost more than Donghun could take. He kissed Junhee’s neck, feverishly desperate for every exposed inch of his skin. He’d wanted this for _so long…_

“Get these off.” Donghun sat up at Junhee’s whisper, and then yanked his clothes off faster than he had ever undressed before. Beneath him, Junhee scrabbled awkwardly out of his underwear, and they stopped, staring at each other. Drunk, utterly drunk on his body, Donghun reached out a hand to play with him, and the way Junhee’s hips rose to meet his touch made his head spin. The very idea of getting him off… Donghun was obsessed with it.

He wasn’t sure he ever wanted this cycle of tongues in mouths, hands stroking, bodies pressing together to end. It felt limitless – this pleasure, they could keep doing this, he never wanted this feeling to stop…

Donghun was on top of Junhee again when he felt a growing tension in the body beneath him. This wasn’t enough… Not for either of them…

“Hunnie?” Junhee looked up at him through the dark. “I… I’ve not done this before.”

Donghun brushed back his hair, fierce affection mixing with his desire – and the cocktail was lethal. “At all..?”

“No, idiot.” Junhee slapped his arm. “You know that. With… another boy.”

Donghun leaned over him, pressing kisses into his neck. “We don’t have to do this…”

He looked up as Junhee met his eyes. His hands tightened on him. “I want you.”

Never had any words been more of an aphrodisiac. He kissed him, and as they broke free he let out nothing short of a whimper.

“I want to fuck you so _fucking_ much.” After the words escaped his mouth, he caught himself, and flushed red. “Sorry, I mean…”

“Come on, trust you to get shy when you’re practically inside me…” Junhee grinned up at him, and Donghun snorted. He shoved Junhee’s face, and it made him laugh, and then they were both laughing. Junhee looked up at him, all big eyes and pink cheeks behind his teasing.

And Donghun could pinpoint it to that precise moment: when he knew he was completely in love with him.

He was careful with him. Withdrawing his cautious fingers, he looked for his readiness, brushing back his hair when he nodded. He pushed gradually, and gently, even though it took all his ability not to lose his entire fucking mind and sink into him completely. He cupped Junhee’s face; his teeth were gritted.

“Am I hurting you?”

Hazy brown eyes met his. “It’s okay. Don’t stop.”

Gradually, Donghun could feel the tension seep out of Junhee. The faint grimace slid away to a look of close-eyed pleasure, and then he was moaning, and Donghun had to grab at the duvet to steady himself.

He stopped thinking, and everything got faster and more desperate.

Pressing Junhee’s back into the bed, his hands clinging onto the headboard. Scrabbling to get him into his lap, watching him take control, hands clawing at Donghun’s chest. And then Donghun lifted him, staggered over to the desk, shoved Junhee on the edge, and lost all self-control.

There was so much - the feel of him; the way he looked with every muscle tensed like a spring and one foot up on the edge of the desk; the sound of Donghun’s name slipping out between moans like a shot of ecstasy… But it was his _hands_ , the way it felt to have Junhee’s hands grab him, nails sinking into his back – that was the most knee-weakening thing of all. The way his hands clutched so hard it hurt as Junhee went tense and cried out.

Thick pleasure jolted through Donghun so suddenly he almost stopped moving. He went hot and freezing cold, and he pulled in Junhee’s hips so tight it had to hurt. He let out a final choked whimper.

For a minute, they just leaned on each other, still. The room was filled with the sound of their breathing.

When he finally pulled back to look at Junhee, they stared at each other. And then they both started to laugh.

Donghun leaned on his shoulder, weak and smiling. He stepped back and let Junhee slide down from the desk, and they just about managed to collapse onto the bed.

Right away, Junhee spread over him and kissed him lazily. Donghun let his arms slide around him. They were a sweaty, messy pile of limbs, but right now he didn’t care. How did this feel so good…

He realised that never had anyone wanted to just lie and kiss him after sex before. Normally they were up to get dressed, or shower, or they would fall asleep. Now, he shut his eyes, entirely blissed out as Junhee kissed him through the endorphin rush.

It was everything he had ever wanted.

~

The alarm trickled through Donghun’s dreams. He came to reluctantly, hitting his phone with his eyes still shut to make it stop. He snuggled against the pillow. Five more minutes.

Only now he was awake, he remembered what had happened.

He opened his eyes quickly. Junhee was already out of bed – showering perhaps, and Donghun let out a long, slow breath, staring at the ceiling. Well, _that_ had happened. The way he’d looked in his lap, all toned muscle and tattoos and sweat making rivulets down his bare chest… Fuck, it had been the best sex he’d ever had, because all that normal self-consciousness, all those worries of miscommunicating – Junhee made them disappear. He’d never abandoned himself like that before.

But it was more than that. He’d wanted to make Junhee feel good, more than he cared about himself. He wanted to make him feel like his attention was all on him, and only ever on him. And yes, fucking him felt _fantastic_ but it was because it came from a place much deeper, it came from…

Donghun sat up, rubbing his hair. Should he tell him? Before he left today… Should he say it?

 _I love you_. They’d said it before, they’d said it as a joke and as a way to cheer each other up. But he wanted to tell him now, hold him and actually make him believe it – Donghun loved him, in every single way possible.

He had to do it.

He threw on pyjamas and headed out the room, frowning as he found the bathroom empty. He headed downstairs, his steps light, and smiled as he found Junhee in the kitchen.

“Morning!”

Junhee looked up. “Morning.”

“You’re up and ready early.” He pouted a little. “Do you have to leave so soon..?” _Stay, so I can tell you how I feel, and we can enjoy the last of our time together…_

“Yeah. I need to go.”

“Okay.” Donghun felt a little surprised at his tone but chalked it up to tiredness. “Well, I’ll miss you…”

He stepped closer and tilted his face to kiss him – but as he did, Junhee leaned his face away.

Donghun stopped, his heart skipping.

“Donghun… I’m going to leave. I’ve packed my stuff, I… I need to go.”

Donghun stared at him, and then at the suitcase and belongings in the corner of the room. Junhee didn’t meet his eyes, but stepped past him to get his stuff, and walked into the hallway.

“Junhee..?” Donghun heard his own voice – it was small and frightened. What was happening..?

“This was a mistake.”

The word struck Donghun hard. No, no… This wasn’t happening… He had to still be dreaming…

“What… coming here?!”

“ _No_ , no…” Junhee raked his fingers through his hair, and his eyes finally flickered up to Donghun’s. “Donghun, I shouldn’t have… We shouldn’t have…”

Donghun shrank back, feeling cold. “I’m… a mistake?”

Junhee let out a hiss through gritted teeth, pressing the palm of one hand to his forehead. “I… I shouldn’t have got caught up, I don’t know what came over me… This isn’t me…”

Donghun tried to stop his breathing from getting any shakier. Was this just Junhee panicking? Yes, it changed things, of course it did, but the roots of their friendship were _so_ deep… And if they wanted each other _that_ way as well… Wasn’t it easy? Didn’t they just accept that and let their relationship deepen?

“Junhee, I know you’re freaking out right now, but-”

“I’m not just freaking out!” Junhee looked at him, beseeching. Donghun shut up. “Don’t you get it? Fuck, Donghun, I’m _straight_. This can’t happen. This-” He indicated the two of them. “-can never happen. This isn’t what I was brought up to be. This is _wrong_ , you know that, right?”

Donghun physically recoiled. “Wrong?” he whispered, his heart thudding. “You mean… You…” His voice caught. “Because you were told that in church?” He blinked, and two tears splashed down his face. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I…” Junhee visibly searched for the words, and then looked at him, pained. “No, not you… I just…”

Donghun couldn’t move, he just stared. Confrontation had him rooted to the spot and he couldn’t believe what Junhee was saying. Not _him_ , he couldn’t think this, he couldn’t…

“Why did you…” Kiss me? Sleep with me? Make me fall in love with you? But he couldn’t speak, he hated this, he wanted the world to swallow him and never spit him out.

“I don’t know!” Junhee’s voice rose, and Donghun shrank back so far he was pressed into the corner of the wall. “I don’t… You need to forget it. Forget me.”

Everything froze.

“What..?”

Junhee was crying, Donghun could see the tears on his face as he wrapped a hand around his suitcase handle. “Please, just let me go… I can’t do this…”

He opened the front door, and sobs started to rack through Donghun’s chest. Junhee looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes shining with tears. Donghun looked at him helplessly, tears dripping from his chin. He desperately searched for his voice:

“I love you.”

Junhee met his eyes once more, and then his face broke, and he left.

The door shut with a bang.

Donghun couldn’t breathe. He slid down the wall, bumping down to sit on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and wept, until there were no tears left to cry.

Life would go on, even though he didn’t feel, right then, that it could. It would take all of summer to collect up the fragments of his heart, and much longer to piece them back together – and once whole again, the cracks would never really go away. He would return to university in autumn – despite the fear of what people would think of him - and in two years, he would graduate with a first-class degree.

And he would do it all without Junhee by his side.

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ End of Part IV ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Junhee...
> 
> I was shouting "JUST KISS ALREADY" in my head for the majority of the time I was writing this, but I hope you enjoyed their little relationship blossoming. Until, you know, they ruined it.
> 
> Thank you so much, as always, for reading; thank you so much for your kudos (kudoses? kudos? kudoseseseses?); thank you so much for your comments. I really love writing for you guys.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghun and Junhee spent five happy days together at long last, deepening their friendship more than ever. But despite the naturalness of the progression of their relationship from friends to something more, Junhee panicked, and left Donghun broken-hearted.
> 
> Five years have passed since they cut contact, and now in their mid-twenties, life looks very different for both of them...

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun sat back in his chair, raising an eyebrow with a sigh.

“You’re not being very helpful, Hae.”

Hae blinked up at him with those big round eyes, looking very comfortable in her new position sat on his notebook. She had a basket in the corner of his office, but whenever he was writing, she liked to pounce up onto his desk and slink between his stuff.

Donghun gave her a quick fuss behind one ear and turned his attention back to his laptop.

In the last few years, he had developed a personal animosity towards the cursor. It was always there, blinking at the end of his unfinished sentences. _Well?_ it seemed to say. _Time’s ticking! You’ve got deadlines!_ So patronising.

He played absently with his nose ring, crossing his legs up on his chair. Tucking his hair behind his ears – god, it was getting long, he should really cut it – he tapped out another couple of lines, and then stopped yet again, musing. Most of the time, his characters refused to get out of his head, permanently wittering away when he was trying to watch movies, or sort bills, or sleep. And then sometimes, when he needed them, they would disappear, leaving him to struggle through his chapters alone.

His eyes fell on a green-covered book propped up at one end of his desk. He traced the lettering on the front: _Lee Donghun_. His first book, published six months ago, and there wasn’t a day that passed that looking at that book didn’t fill him with joy.

So even when the days were hard, when his muse vanished – he counted every last blessing he’d been given. His publisher had paid his advance for his second book, and he knew that he was enormously fortunate to be sat here, at twenty-six years old, getting paid to spend his days in the imaginary worlds he had always so happily lived in.

“Uh, do you mind…” He detached his hands from the keyboard as Hae padded over the keys, sending a string of chaos into his document on-screen. He picked her up quickly, and she mewed, giving him that look he couldn’t get mad at. She purred as he scratched her chin, but he got up and put her down gently in the doorway. “Go on. Go find other daddy.”

He settled back down to writing and started to find his flow. A mug of coffee grew cold next to his laptop, but the world around him blurred and disappeared. When he wrote, it was all-encompassing; sometimes he would look up and jolt, momentarily displaced and unsure of what day or time it was. So as the afternoon ticked into evening, he didn’t even notice the sun setting outside the apartment.

“Hey… How you getting on?”

Donghun looked up as a face appeared round the doorway. He ran a hand through his hair – it was wildly messy from where he kept playing with it.

“Yeah, I’ve nearly finished this chapter. Just a little more to go.”

Byunchul hung in the doorway, watching him. Donghun’s high school crush had only ever got more handsome – he wore his grown-out hair half up and half down, always dressed in pricey brand shirts and expensive jeans. But he wore a look of apprehension now, and Donghun waited for the inevitable.

“So are you going to come out with me and the boys for a bit? Come on, it’s Friday…”

Donghun grimaced apologetically, even though they both knew full well he wasn’t going to go. “I can’t… I’m really close to getting this done and… If I stop now I’ll lose my thread…”

“Not just for a little bit?” Byunchul walked over, lacing his arms over Donghun’s shoulders. “Come have some fun, baby…”

Donghun felt guilty even as he shook his head, and Byunchul’s hands left him with a quickly-smothered sigh. “I can’t…”

“Okay.” Byunchul gave him a smile, and Donghun hated that it looked strained. “Well… Have a good night. Don’t forget to eat. I might be late but I’ll be quiet when I come in.” He turned to go, and Donghun jumped up and caught his hand.

“Hey…” Byunchul turned to face him and Donghun looked up at him, giving him a little questioning half-smile. Byunchul’s eyes softened as Donghun put a hand on his waist. “I love you, ‘kay?”

Byunchul tucked back a strand of Donghun’s hair tenderly. “I love you too.” Donghun lifted onto his toes to kiss him, and watched him go.

He sighed as he returned to his desk, looking at the floor with unfocussed eyes. He felt bad, he really did – he knew how much Byunchul wished he would spend more time going out with him and his friends. But his boyfriend’s inner circle were all sporty and successful and confident, dressed in designer labels and keen to hang out in whatever Gangnam bar or Hongdae club was most popular this week. Donghun didn’t fit in there – no matter the weak protests Byunchul tried to give him to the contrary.

It didn’t stop him feeling a little guilty as he heard the front door open and close. He promised himself he would go next time.

Donghun wrote for another hour, until his neck started to ache and his fingers needed cracking. He rubbed his arms, the muscles that defined them still feeling like a surprise even after these past four or five years of working on them, having grown up a whip-thin kid. Finally satisfied with his day’s output, he let Hae lead him to the kitchen, where she curled around his legs as he dished out her food.

After making himself dinner, he headed into the living room, curling up in the armchair to eat. The sunset bathed the wooden flooring with amber light, pouring in through tall windows. Even after two years, Donghun still felt grateful to live in this beautiful place. Byunchul had graduated a year ahead of him, and had landed a very good job in biomedicine. With a hefty salary and some inheritance, he had bought this place, and painstakingly decorated every room to create a home.

And it had been visiting him in his new apartment three years ago that had led on to everything else. Donghun had just graduated, bursting out from education into the real world wide-eyed and a little scared. Coming over to catch up with an old friend in the evening had turned into waking up in bed with him the next morning. It had been familiar, and comforting, returning to the first boy he’d ever slept with. And since then, he had just… never really left, officially moving his stuff in after a year together.

He owed that boy a lot. Byunchul had supported him a lot through the process of writing his book. He’d encouraged Donghun to take the plunge and slash his hours at work in half to focus on writing – and living here meant Donghun paid a fraction of the living costs he would do in a place by himself. He would never forget how much he owed Byunchul for helping him reach his dream.

He finished eating and popped his plate on the coffee table, snuggling deeper into the armchair and scrolling absently through his phone. The usual stream of coffees and brunches and dogs filled his Instagram feed; he paused over a post from his publishing company: _Today is World Letter Writing Day_ …

Donghun snorted softly. It had been a long time since he’d had the time or patience to write a letter – they were a dying art. Hell, he probably hadn’t sent one since…

There it was, the vice that clawed around his heart, swift and painful. He immediately felt guilty, like he always did – it shouldn’t still feel like a stab in the chest to think about Junhee. Five years… Five years since he had walked out of Donghun’s house in Suwon.

He couldn’t help it, couldn’t push away the curiosity. He opened the search bar on the app and hovered his thumbs over the keyboard. He shouldn’t… This never did him any good…

 _Junhee_Park7._ His phone suggested it after a few letters, even though he didn’t follow the account, because it knew he had been here before. He tapped the profile and he took in the flood of colourful pictures.

Junhee had returned to Seoul last year. Donghun had seen the photos from a leaving party in England on one of the other occasions he had given in to temptation and followed up on how Junhee was doing. He’d also seen, with wide eyes, that Junhee had started doing some modelling – not that that came as any major surprise… Now, his feed seemed to be filled with nights out with friends, road trips, hikes to beautiful mountaintops and pretty lunches. It was cheerful, and colourful, and it did what Donghun came here for – it reassured him that Junhee was happy.

Hae jumped into his lap, and he stroked her absently. That summer after Junhee had walked away had been the worst few months of his life. School had been hell, Jiho had been cruel, but he’d never known pain like that.

Completely shattered, he had immediately blacklisted Junhee’s number and blocked him on every platform. In his head, he had kept re-running the same narrative: his best friend disapproved of his sexuality, and had thrown him aside, and now Donghun was his shameful secret. His mistake. He could have taken that from anyone else, but not Junhee. Not the boy who had been his whole hope from childhood all the way into his early twenties. The boy he had told everything. The boy who knew him better than he knew himself. And the boy he had loved, helplessly, with all his heart.

He had been so upset and fragile that when, a month later, a letter had arrived bearing an English stamp, Donghun had burst into fresh tears, and had screwed it up and thrown it away without opening it. Only when a few months had passed, and he had returned to university in September to find that despite Minjoon’s attempt to have him condemned, no one treated him any differently, did Donghun start to wonder if he had been too fast to write off Junhee. He had started to think, over time, how hard it must have been for Junhee to confront his sexuality when raised to think it was sinful and wrong. But by the time his anguish had cooled, he had felt like it was too late to reach back out – and besides, his bruised pride had still stung.

He still wondered, sometimes, what had been written on that letter.

And then there had come a day, two years ago, when Donghun had fallen again into the trap of looking up Junhee on social media. Still in England, Junhee had been tagged in a photo by another boy, taken on a sunny day at Pride in London. Junhee had been giving that big, shining-eyed smile to camera, a rainbow flag painted onto one cheek, and a brunette boy kissing the other. _Best boy_. That’s all the caption had read, but it had still clamped Donghun’s throat shut.

He still remembered the feeling of shameful guilt at how much his hands had shook. He had been a year happily into his relationship with Byunchul, but that photo had really knocked him for six.

Seeing him like that, so happy and open – Donghun had of course, more than anything, been so relieved to see that he had accepted himself. Despite his upbringing repressing his true self, despite the way he had run from Donghun’s bed pleading that he was straight, Junhee had finally acknowledged his sexuality and let love into his life.

But at the same time, it had hit Donghun like a blow to the chest. Junhee had run away because he didn’t want a relationship with another boy. Sleeping with Donghun had been a mistake because he was adamant that he was straight. But this photo, this acceptance… It took away all those straws Donghun had been grasping at for years. Someone else had come along, whoever that was, and been enough to make Junhee want something more with another boy. Someone who had helped him accept himself. And Donghun had had to accept that he had never been that person – and the cold, stark fact was that Junhee had simply never loved Donghun the way Donghun had always loved him.

And that had broken his heart all over again.

Now, he closed Instagram as Hae nudged his hand.

“I know, I know, it’s none of my business what he’s up to.” The cat blinked at him twice. “Don’t look at me like that. I just want to know he’s doing okay.” His voice quietened. “I have to always know he’s doing okay.”

He found a show on Netflix to watch, and curled up for the night with Hae.

~

**_Junhee_ **

The table burst out laughing, although the noise was lost in the music and chatter of the bar. Pink and green neon lights created a stark contrast to the walls of plants they were hung on, and girls posed in front of them for the perfect Instagram photo. People spilled out onto the terrace outside, smoking, and all the bars up and down the road were identical.

Junhee pushed back his hair, pointing at his friends’ empty glasses.

“Drinks? Drinks. My round.”

Standing up, he realised he was a little tipsier than he had thought. It was nice – the warm night, the buzz, being with his best friends. He made his way to the bar and leaned his elbows on it, pulling out his phone to scroll through social media, glancing up with a smile as the barman took his order.

“Okay, but that guy on his phone is _absolutely_ the hottest person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Junhee didn’t look round, but his ears pricked up. He carried on scrolling but tuned in to the conversation in English to his left. The guys drinking at the bar looked round at him, he could tell.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you say that every time you see someone you like the look of, but okay.”

“Ugh, you know I have a thing for small pretty boys… And he’s got tattoos…”

“Well I do know that, because you’re shamelessly staring at him…”

“I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, but I would fuck him senseless.”

Junhee had to try very hard not to snort with laughter. He pocketed his phone as the barman put his drinks in front of him, and he collected three of them deftly. As he turned to head back to his friends, he leaned over to the group talking about him.

“You know, it’s pretty bold of you to presume I’m not fluent in English.”

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk, and watched the boy who had been talking about him turn bright pink. He gave a devilish smile, turning and walking back to his table. As he returned for his own drink, the boy cleared his throat.

“I’d say sorry for you hearing that,” he said casually. “But you don’t look particularly offended.”

Junhee smiled, leaning against the bar. “You’re American, from your accents. It’s your first time in South Korea because you’re in Itaewon, and this is where every tourist gets told to go. You were also told not to expect the locals to speak English. You’re a little drunk, so you took that literally and thought you could talk about ‘fucking me senseless’ and there’d definitely not be a chance I’d understand you.” The boy watched him, eyebrows raised. “But I’ll allow it, because you’re hot.”

A slow smile spread over the boy’s freckled face, and he pushed back his sandy hair. “Is that so?” He stepped a little closer, narrowing his eyes at Junhee. “So is this where I buy you a drink and pretend to be interested in getting to know you, or is this where we skip that and go back to my hotel room?”

Junhee leaned close to him to speak into his ear and enjoyed the way it made him shiver. “This is where you put your money where your mouth is.”

Half an hour later, Junhee had one leg crooked up over a dresser, his hands pressed into the wall to hold himself up. Good god, this boy meant what he’d said, because there was a hand coiled into his hair tight, and the way he was getting pushed into the edge of the dresser was starting to hurt. He definitely didn’t dislike it.

But something was missing. It always was, and he _hated_ it. What was wrong with him? Why was it that _every single time_ he’d had sex – and let’s be honest, that was a lot, because since he’d come out he’d decided to make up for lost time – it just didn’t quite satisfy him? How come, no matter how gorgeous the boy or how badly he wanted it, it never seemed to give him that fulfilled, gorgeous, intense satisfaction that he so desperately wanted?

Except… once. Except one night, a long time ago, when sweat had dripped down his back and he’d heard his name whimpered lovingly between kisses…

“Let me turn around.” The boy eased back, and Junhee turned, pulling himself up on the edge of the dresser, lifting one foot up to the edge. This time, as he grabbed the boy’s waist, pleasure began to build up, and he started to moan.

“Oh fuck, you like that?”

But Junhee barely heard it. He knew it was bad. He knew he’d feel guilty. But he closed his eyes and sank back into his own memories, dissolved back to that one night when he had been propped up on a desk over notepads and comic books, and the way that had felt was still enough to bring him to the edge now, and push him over it.

He heard the boy reach his own climax, but Junhee was too busy submerging in his own heat.

It faded quickly. Too quickly. And then came the hard smack of guilt and self-disgust. And then he quickly masked _that_ , refused to dwell on any of it, and the cycle was complete.

“Jesus Christ.” The boy met his eyes, pulling away and flopping back on the bed. “That was fun.”

“It was.” Junhee slipped down from the desk. He fetched water from the mini bar and went to the bathroom, and when he returned, the boy was already asleep. Quietly, he gathered his clothes and pulled them on, and slipped out of the door.

He called a cab to get home. He was feeling thoroughly sobered up by the time he let himself into his apartment, quietly setting down his keys and kicking off his shoes. He needn’t have crept around though, as he found the living room light on and his housemate sat cross-legged on the floor, plugged into the PS4.

“Are you still playing video games? It’s like… 2am.” He sat on the arm of the sofa, watching Yeonjin pause and push his headphones down around his neck.

“Don’t pretend you’ve never stayed up massacring zombies either.” He raised an eyebrow, giving him a look up and down. “Wow… Boy do you smell like booze and sex.”

“That’s because I’ve had booze and sex.” Junhee shrugged off his jacket and sat on the floor next to him, lay down in his lap as he resumed his game, and watched him play.

“Who was it this time?”

“Just some guy at a bar. American. Very freckly.”

“Mh-hm. Have fun?”

Junhee sighed, watching him make a headshot. “I guess.”

“Uh-huh. So you got laid and now you’ve sobered up and you hate yourself a bit.” Another zombie bit the dust. “Do you need me to make you pancakes again?”

“No…” Junhee played with his friend’s sock, pulling fluff absently. “I’m fine.”

“Y’know, Junhee.” Yeonjin pushed his glasses up his nose. “You could always try meeting someone you actually like to sleep with. Someone who actually made you feel good about yourself.”

Junhee snorted. “Nope.” He said it more to himself than Yeonjin. “I’d just fuck it up.”

“How can you say that when you’ve never had a long-term relationship? You-”

“You wouldn’t understand, Jin.” Junhee sighed dramatically and sat up. “I hurt someone the only time it mattered.”

Yeonjin paused the game and looked at him. “That doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself for the rest of your life by sleeping with boys who don’t care about you.”

“Shut up, you little nerd.” Junhee ruffled Yeonjin’s hair, to his protest, and grinned. Better to distract him - his friend was annoyingly perceptive and he was feeling too messy right now to talk about this. “Does the pancake offer still stand?”

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun hummed to some song on the radio as he drove home. He had met his literary agent over coffee and he buzzed with excitement. There was going to be a number of events in Europe for newcomer LGBT authors, and the organisers had asked him to attend. Him! It was almost the book tour he’d always dreamed of – and in a way even better, because he’d get to meet other writers too. It was short notice, but that was okay – he’d dreamt of this day for his whole life.

He’d only ever been abroad to Thailand and Japan. Finally, he was going to see the world beyond the continent he’d been born in. He was going to see Paris, and Berlin, and Milan…

He pulled up at home and walked to the door with a spring in his step. As he headed into the front room, he smiled at Byunchul as he appeared from the kitchen.

“Hey sweetheart! How was your day? You’re home early.”

“Hey,” Byunchul replied. He looked stressed. “Yeah, it was okay. Yours?”

“Yeah! Great, actually.” Donghun hesitated, hanging his jacket over the back of the armchair. “Are you okay?”

For a second, Byunchul just watched him. “Can we talk?”

Donghun’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-yeah. Of course we can.” He watched Byunchul take a seat on the sofa, and sat next to him, apprehensive. What could be wrong? Something at work?

For some time, Byunchul seemed to struggle for words. Eventually, he reached out and clasped Donghun’s hand, and he held it tight in return.

“Donghun… I’ve been thinking a lot about… everything. About… us.” Donghun’s eyes snapped up to his face. “I was thinking about whether we’re… the best people to make each other happy. And I kept thinking about your novel.” Byunchul looked up, and Donghun was horrified to see tears shining in his eyes. “And I don’t think I can ever live up to your imaginary boyfriend in your book.”

_No…_

“I don’t mean that sharply,” Byunchul added quickly, and the tears spilled from his eyes. “I’m just being honest. Because you’re Minseok, right?”

Donghun’s heart thudded. He thought about the protagonist of his novel, Minseok, and the love story it told about his romance with Taehyun. Of course he’d poured a lot of himself into Minseok – didn’t every writer? Was it possible to write main characters who didn’t end up reflecting the mind they were bourne from?

But already guilt was flushing him - because of Taehyun. Because of who Taehyun was based on, and as much as Donghun wanted to deny it, he couldn’t… His two characters even began by writing letters to one another…

“I mean, I guess…”

Byunchul nodded. “And you wish Taehyun was real, don’t you?” He smiled sadly. Donghun stared at him. “It’s not an accusation… I know, Hun. A pretty, younger boy with everything in common with you… Someone who draws out the best in you… Someone who sets off fireworks in you.” A tear leaked down Byunchul’s face. “And that’s not me.”

“Byunnie, no, I-” Donghun felt tears very quickly rising up his throat, and they wobbled on his lash line. “What are you saying..?”

Byunchul looked into his face, squeezed his hand, and said nothing. He didn’t have to.

“Are you… are you leaving me?” Panic bubbled up through Donghun and tears splashed down his face. “Please, tell me you’re not…”

“I love you, Donghun, I really do…” he said gently. “But this isn’t working, is it?”

For a while, Donghun just held onto his hand, caught somewhere between crying and not being able to breathe from shock.

“Is this… just because of my book?”

“No, of course not.” Byunchul smoothed back his hair gently. “I’m just using that as a way to… talk to you in your own language, I guess.” He smiled, and it was laced with sadness. “You know as well as I do that we’re not on the same page most of the time. You say it yourself, the group of friends I spend my time with, the people I work with… You don’t feel comfortable with them-”

“I’ll come out with you more.” Donghun moved closer. “If it’s about that, I-I’ll come and spend more time with your friends. I’ve been really antisocial, and I’ll change, I-”

“I don’t want you to change, Donghun.” Byunchul took his other hand, too. “You’re perfect the way you are. But we’re just so _different_. I used to think it was something we could get around, but… You’re right, I like spending my time out on the weekends, with friends who are different to you… And you love writing, and art, and comics, and I don’t really know much about those things. You deserve to be with someone who loves those things too.” He shook his hands gently. “Someone like Taehyun.”

Donghun knew he meant it as a gentle joke, that he could never have known, but it hurt so much. He started to cry in earnest.

“And sometimes I think you spend so long living in worlds you invent in your imagination because… well, they’re happier than the world you’re living in.” He looked down. “So I think we should both stop trying to make something work and go and find something that makes us feel fireworks, you know? I guess what I’m trying to say is… Maybe we love each other, but we’re not _in_ love with each other?”

Donghun looked into his honest face, tears dripping from his chin silently. It felt like the floor had disappeared out from under his feet. But at the same time, no matter how much he desperately wanted to deny it… what Byunchul was saying was true.

Donghun had always known: this relationship was about safety. There were no fireworks, it wasn’t built on passion – this had been a safe, slow burn from school crushes, into college friends, into a workable relationship. They had never swept each other off their feet, they’d never made each other’s hearts skip at the tiniest things. The only thing they had in common these days was where they were from, and their history, and that just wasn’t enough.

“Hun?”

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. “I think you’re right.”

“Okay.” Byunchul took a deep breath. “I care about you a lot. And I want this to be as easy as possible for both of us.”

Donghun nodded, looking down at his feet as a small nose nudged his ankle. Hae looked up at him, sensing his upset, and mewed in question. His eyes welled up again and spilled.

“Do I have to leave? Do you want me to go…”

“No, it’s okay. Stay here. I’m going to go and stay with my parents for a few days. Let you have some time.” _To move out_. It was unspoken, but it still made Donghun’s lip tremble. “I already got some things together.” He waved a hand to indicate their bedroom.

“You… you packed your things while I was at work?”

Byunchul looked sad. “Yeah…”

That was the trigger that broke his heart. The image of him folding up clothes into a suitcase, alone, waiting for Donghun to come home so he could bring everything to an end.

Donghun finally burst into tears. Byunchul held him close, and let him sob.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee wandered down the high street, iced americano in hand. It was a busy Saturday in Apgujeong, and the wealthy were out to play. Every other person carried a bag that was the same as his monthly rent, and there were men dressed in black on the doors of expensively minimalist shops. He found it fun, wandering through the priciest district in Korea.

He’d had a modelling gig this morning – that was the only reason he ever found himself in Gangnam. He still wasn’t past being baffled for getting paid for, essentially, the way he looked, and he didn’t think he’d ever shake the feeling that he’d somehow tricked these people into thinking he was the right person to advertise their clothes. At the moment, it was still early in his career, and he tutored English as a second job to make some extra money, but the more work he did, the more he got offered.

Eventually, he broke free from the stream of perfectly turned-out people and immaculate boutique stores, and back into the realm of places he could afford. In search of some peace and quiet, he wandered into a book shop, the cool AC a welcome respite.

As he browsed, his mind wandered back to the night last week he and his friends had gone out. He hated that Yeonjin had now come to expect him to come home fresh from getting laid and fresh out of self-esteem. Was that who he was now? Someone whose friends expected him to hook up with a different guy each week, someone who sobered up and felt grubby but never learned?

If his parents even knew the half of it… Junhee shuddered, pulling out a book and turning it over to read the blurb. They were still blissfully unaware of his sexuality; he might have come out to his friends at twenty-one, but he’d so far gotten to twenty-five with them still expecting a daughter-in-law and a string of kids any time soon.

He thought about what Yeonjin had said. _You could always try meeting someone you actually like to sleep with. Someone who actually made you feel good about yourself._ He didn’t even know how he would go about doing that. It’s not like he hadn’t met nice guys, but whenever he did, he had a deep impulse to push them away before they got too close. Because he was scared of messing it up? Or because he was scared they could never compare to..?

He put a book back on the table and started to wander back through the shop towards the entrance. As he brushed past a mother and child, the red bracelet around his wrist caught on the edge of a display and with a tug, he felt it give, splitting down the middle.

“No…” He crouched down, picking up the worn woven thread in dismay. He’d worn it for a decade, and while the colour had faded and the ends grown tatty, it had always held, until now. He played helplessly with the frayed ends. Maybe he could fix it.

Dejected, he stood up to leave the shop. As he did, he caught something – a book on the display in front of him. For a moment, he just stared at it. A green cover with silver lettering. But it was _that name_ …

Junhee picked it up. His heart was beating wildly.

_His Seventh Letter  
Lee Donghun_

Calm down. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Lee was like, the second most common surname in the country, and there had been a whole bunch of Donghuns and Donghyuns born in the nineties. He went straight to the inside cover, and to the author’s note.

_Grew up in Suwon._

When Donghun had first written to him at twelve years-old, his head had already been filled with stories and characters. Junhee remembered, of course he did, because he’d memorised those early words completely, and because he had kept every last letter Donghun had ever sent. And in his first letter:

_I really like comics and books, I read a lot. I want to be a writer when I grow up._

“You did it,” Junhee breathed. His chest swelled with pride, and tears pricked the back of his eyes. He ran a hand over the front cover, and wished more than anything on earth he could have been there when he got the news he was going to be published. He could just see that smile, could almost hear the awkward sniffles because he was such a _crier_ …

He had never felt so proud of anyone in his entire life.

And with it, a deep sense of missing his friend. For the eight most formative years of his life, Donghun had been there. He’d been a helping hand, a wise word, a shoulder to cry on throughout all Junhee’s growing pains. _His_ gentle reasoning had been the thing that had given him the strength to come back to Seoul. And he was the one who had, eventually, helped him realise his sexuality. Despite the initial panicking, that one night had pushed Junhee to accept that forcing himself into bed with women was tearing himself apart, because that simply wasn’t who he was. It was because of Donghun that he understood so many parts of himself.

And yet here he was, five years later, with no way to even tell him he was proud of him. It was burned into his memory, the last time he had seen him: crying helplessly in his hallway after Junhee had, essentially, fucked him and run away. His insides still twisted with disgust at himself, even after all this time. Yes, at the time, he had been more afraid than he had ever been in his life: petrified of having to face up to not being straight, petrified of getting disowned by his family, petrified of the religion he had grown up in that said he would go to hell for what he was doing. But how was Donghun supposed to have known that? To him, Junhee had simply run away. Used him. Ruthlessly broken his heart. No wonder Donghun had blocked him and locked him out of his life.

And now the last words he had heard him say, through his tears, would always be “I love you”.

Junhee still wondered what life would look like if, back then, he’d had the courage to tell the truth, and say “I love you too”.

Now, he turned his old friend’s book over, looking at the blurb. At first, he could barely take in the words, he was still so stunned. And then he read it again. _When Minseok and Taehyun start writing letters to one another…_ Junhee stared. Writing letters? But that was… Had Donghun..?

Feeling light-headed, he tucked his snapped bracelet into his pocket and took the book to the counter. The shop assistant smiled as he handed it over.

“We’re selling a lot of copies of this this week.” He scanned it, tucking it into a bag. “The whole LGBT thing isn’t really for me, but people seem to be buying it.”

Junhee smiled weakly as he paid by card. As he left the shop, he sent a message to his friends to decline meeting them later for dinner. He had some reading to do.

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ End of Part V ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've come a long way from the little middle-schoolers writing their letters...
> 
> As an aside, I really love writing Byunchul. He's such a sweetheart.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! In my head, Chapter 1-4 were 'Part 1' and we're now moving into 'Part 2' with chapters 5-8. I hope you're enjoying seeing where their lives take them next.
> 
> Have a lovely weekend, and thank you as always for reading.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	6. Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghun has spent his mid-twenties in the safety net of a comfortable relationship - but Byunchul has finally been brave enough to pull the plug, and now Donghun is on his own once again. Little does he know, across the city, that his old friend has just come across his book...

**_Donghun_ **

The rain was a murky slate grey above Seoul, and Donghun glanced up at it as he drove, feeling glum. _Pathetic fallacy_ , he acknowledged to himself with a sigh.

He drove through Sangsu-dong, tapping absently on the wheel as he stopped at a light, glancing at the roads outside. The power station dominated the skyline, but the streets were a curious mixture of cool cafes and bars frequented by the fashionably-dressed, and an urban grittiness. In any other circumstances, he might feel excited to move to a place like this. But today, the rain sputtered down and his enthusiasm remained dulled.

He finally pulled up outside a block of apartments and fetched a box from the backseat. With a sigh, he headed inside.

His new apartment. Compared to Byunchul’s place, it was a tiny studio, but it was light and bright and there was space in the window for his desk, and that was all that mattered. Luckily, he’d managed to buy most of the furniture from the last tenants who were moving abroad, and he’d shifted his stuff in over the last few days. It would be nice to sleep in a bed tonight. He’d moved out last week, and stayed on a friend’s sofa until he could get his lease sorted.

Gently, he set the box down. Hae poked her head above the edge curiously, mewing at the unfamiliar space. Donghun crouched down and scratched her ear.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”

Hae hopped out, sniffing the wooden flooring suspiciously. She padded over the rug, investigated a plant, and then pounced up onto his bed and curled up to sleep, completely unbothered about which four walls she slept in. Donghun snorted softly.

It was undeniably strange, making dinner and eating alone. He felt a compulsion to always have a podcast on his headphones, or the radio turned up, because silence – and knowing that no one was coming home to fill it – felt weird. But as he finished eating, legs curled up in an armchair, he couldn’t help but breathe out a little bit of relief.

His immediate response to the breakup was to feel shellshocked. He’d cried into Byunchul until he could get himself together, but when he’d finally left the house and left Donghun alone, he’d cried again. The end of an era brought with it so much grief, no matter what, and Donghun had gone to bed that night devastated and lonely. The next day, every thought had crossed his mind: should he ring Byunchul? Message him? Speak to his friends? Was this a mistake?

But after the initial trauma had worn off, Donghun had come to realise that this was the right thing. He fetched himself a beer from the fridge now, joining Hae on the bed for some cuddles. The second night apart, Byunchul had messaged Donghun and checked in that he was doing okay. Donghun had asked the same, and that little interaction had brought him a great deal of peace. And when Donghun had told him he had a new place sorted, Byunchul had responded with genuine happiness, and he’d sent him photos of the new apartment. And that made all this easier. Perhaps not for a little while, but Donghun harboured hope that they would find a way to remain friends.

Their relationship hadn’t been working. Donghun knew that, even as he sat here cross-legged by himself. The very prospect of this space being _his_ filled him with joy. He could write, all day long if he wanted to, and no one would be offended or think him antisocial. He could shift over all his mangas and comics from his mom’s, because this was his room, and if he wanted to flood it with his nerdy interests then that’s precisely what he would do. God, it was liberating. It meant he now had to pick up adhoc editing jobs to prop up his income just to make rent, but that wasn’t so bad.

He lay back against his pillow, scrolling absently through social media. The only thing he felt guilty about were the comments Byunchul had made about his characters. He hadn’t realised he’d been so painfully transparent in making his protagonist mirror himself – and he felt awful that Byunchul had read Minseok’s love for Taehyun in the book and been able to pick up on the very real adoration that had crafted those characters. He felt extra bad knowing that just a few days before their breakup, he had been looking up Junhee on social media.

But it wasn’t like he was still in love with Junhee. He scoffed at the very thought. Junhee had disappeared out of his life without a backwards glance – why should Donghun spare him a second thought? Junhee had probably forgotten all about him. And that would always set Junhee and his imaginary Taehyun apart – Taehyun had loved Minseok back. Junhee never did.

He moved his keys from the bed to the dresser, ignoring the little red bracelet he had clipped to them as a keyring. So what that he still had it? It was just an old lucky charm…

Donghun put down his beer and phone and picked up the book on the dresser. It was his own novel, translated into English, and post-it notes stuck out from pages. He opened it to the chapter he had picked out. It was only three weeks until he went to Europe to join the writers’ events and while excited, he was extremely conscious that he would be speaking and reading in English. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a natural aptitude in languages that would make him more confident. He’d had English tutoring at his _hagwon_ , but that felt like a long time ago and he was rusty. With Hae padding over to sit in his lap, he turned on the lamp and began to read aloud in a murmur.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee hadn’t moved from the sofa all day. As evening fell, he was wrapped under a blanket up to his nose. Nothing distracted him from the book in his hands.

Since he had come home from the shop yesterday, he had barely paused to do anything else, besides relenting to a few hours of sleep at four in the morning. He was 250 pages deep, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had gone through a novel so fast – if ever. But this was Donghun’s novel. The tone of his voice and the colour of his heart were splashed across every page – it was _so_ beautifully written. Junhee recognised it, it felt like hearing a song from the past, because he had read so many of his snippets and comic strips and stories growing up.

But that wasn’t the only reason it rang familiar.

Donghun’s protagonist was so obviously based on himself. Minseok was a little awkward, a little shy, but smart and ambitious. Reading his voice made Junhee desperately miss that whip-smart friendship he had grown up with. But several chapters in, Minseok met Taehyun, and the two characters began writing letters. And Junhee had had to stop and reread half a dozen times, because Taehyun – despite the creative license, despite the plot points that were invented for the story – was based on Junhee. Nothing overly personal, nothing he wouldn’t want shared with the world… But there was no doubt. He saw himself mirrored back in Donghun’s character.

And Taehyun wasn’t written with malice, nor hatred. He was written with so much _love_.

Junhee propped the book open, tugging the blanket over his head as tears leaked out the corners of his eyes yet again. It was almost too much. This book allowed him to see himself through Donghun’s lens – or at least, how Donghun’s lens had once been – and he knew without any uncertainty that no one else in the world had ever felt love for him like this. He hadn’t even known it was possible, didn’t know someone else could see him with so much affection.

The storyline had diverged from reality, however – because in the book, Minseok and Taehyun confessed their love for one another, and created something beautiful. Their story went on. Junhee wiped his face on the blanket, still buried in darkness. It’s like this book was showing him: _this is what you could have had._

Fuck, how he _hated_ himself for what he’d done.

“Hey, you in? Oh-” Junhee could hear Yeonjin outside his cocoon, and was suddenly very reluctant to come out. However, a hand peeled down one corner of the blanket and Junhee looked up him, watery eyed. “I, uh, I’ve never seen you cry.”

Junhee sat up, the blanket falling to his waist. Yeonjin crouched in front of him, looking worried. He rubbed his face with a sniff. “Yeah. Guess not.”

“Is someone dead?”

Junhee snorted softly. “Talk about expecting the worst, Jin.” He felt uncomfortable under Yeonjin’s concerned scrutiny. “It’s just a… really good book.” It came out as a croak, and he knew his friend was buying none of it.

Yeonjin hesitated, and then stood up and left, returning with two beers and cracking both open. He handed one to Junhee and sat next to him on the other end of the sofa. Junhee sighed.

“There was a boy.” He looked down at the book, hugging his knees. “When I was eleven, and I’d just moved to Italy, we got matched on this pen pal programme. We started writing letters and became best friends. He was a year older than me, smart, funny – he got bullied really badly though. I guess I was there for him when he needed a friend. And in return, he helped me… grow up. By the time we were fourteen or fifteen, we wrote letters all the time, and then we got KakaoTalk and we spoke every single day. Right up until we were in uni. If I needed someone, he was there. If I had good news I wanted to share, he was there cheering for me. If I’d had a bad day, he picked me up. I was even the first person he came out to. He knew absolutely everything there was to know about me, and I knew everything about him.

“And at the end of my first year of uni, his second, he dated this scumbag who went all psycho on him and he was really upset, so I dropped everything, booked a flight, and went to Suwon to stay with him. Oh – we hadn’t met before this point.” Junhee glanced up; Yeonjin’s eyebrows were raised. “And it was just… the _best_ week. I felt so at home… not in Suwon, but with him. We talked about everything, and we explored, and we laughed, and… and then we started… I dunno, getting closer. At night. Oh, another thing, I wasn’t out yet. I, um, hadn’t even let myself accept I was gay yet. But I guess he had always been my first crush. Suddenly I just wanted _more_ , and I was so caught up on him, and… Well, we slept together, only… it wasn’t like a hook up. It was different, and… And I freaked out, didn’t I? I woke up and went to run away.” Junhee ran a hand through his hair and avoided Yeonjin’s sympathetic eyes. “And I basically told my gay best friend that homosexuality was a sin and I didn’t want anything to do with him, and when he cried and told me he loved me, I left.” Junhee looked up, shrugging sardonically. “That’s… really the way I treated him.”

Yeonjin let out a long breath. “Jeez…”

“Yeah. I went to my grandparents’ for a few days and then flew back home to England. And when I stopped freaking out that I’d got with a guy, I started to realise that… I needed to stop faking to myself that I was straight. And accept that I was stupidly in love with him.”

“Did you tell him?”

“He’d blocked my number and blocked me on every platform.” Junhee looked down, ashamed. “So I wrote a letter. And I told him I loved him and how sorry I was but I just needed some time… But he never replied. I don’t know if it ever got to him… Or if he’d even have read it. Probably not. I’d already done the damage and he’d shut me out of his life.”

“Ah Jesus, Junhee, I’m sorry.” Yeonjin sighed. “So… why’s this on your mind?”

Junhee held up the book. “I found this yesterday. He wrote this – published it last year. It’s… about two boys who fall in love after writing letters to each other.”

“…Shit.”

“Shit indeed.” Junhee ran his fingers absently across the cover. “I’m basically reading the alternative ending to my own life.” He swallowed hard.

“So…” Yeonjin said slowly. “Is this why you refuse to get close to anyone… because you still have feelings for him?”

“No. I refuse to get close to anyone because I hurt Donghun so badly and I don’t trust myself with anyone’s heart.”

For a moment, there was silence. Yeonjin wasn’t a big talker at the best of times, and the quiet was a brief comfort.

“I literally have no idea about love and you know that, but you were in a difficult place.” Yeonjin pushed his glasses up his nose. He fixed Junhee with a pensive look. “It sounds like it all moved really fast at a time you still had a lot to work through. I mean… you were brought up getting told you would go to hell. That’s some scary shit. You’re not a villain. And… doesn’t sound like Donghun thinks that either, if he wrote an entire book about you.”

Junhee met his eyes. “But this is just how he _used_ to feel. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate my guts now.”

“You think? You think someone would be able to channel all that years later into their first published work, their _baby_ , if they truly hated the character they were writing about?” Junhee chewed his cheek, and Yeonjin leaned forward. “I gotta go change out of my work stuff but… for what it’s worth, I think you need to go easier on yourself. I don’t think you ruined his life the way you think you did. I’m not saying he still loves you after all these years – dude could have met someone, whatever - but it doesn’t sound like he hates you. And maybe finishing his book and coming to terms with that will cut you loose from all the guilt that’s been holding you back all this time.”

Yeonjin left the room, and Junhee looked back at the book.

~

By two in the morning, Junhee had finished _His Seventh Letter_. He closed the book, feeling dazed, and spent a good fifteen minutes just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Everything aside, it was one hell of a debut novel. No wonder it was selling well.

He didn’t feel much like sleeping, and he instead pulled up his phone and searched the publishing company on Naver. Their site led him to their social media accounts, and he opened Instagram, looking through the photos of new books, events and authors. And then there, in a post from a few months ago, a very familiar face.

He felt a lurch of disconnect, seeing him for the first time in five years.

“My god, Hunnie…” He stared at the photo incredulously. Five years ago, Donghun had been beautiful to him. Hopelessly unaware of any of his own charms, of course, but effortlessly handsome. Even through their teens, with his short bangs, and that year he’d hated smiling because of his braces, Junhee had thought him impossibly good-looking. But he’d grown up. His hair was longer now, long enough to tuck behind his ears, and wavy. He’d pierced his nose, and boy did it suit him. And when Junhee had been with him, he’d been all willowy – that was gone, and his arms had more definition than Junhee had ever managed to force into his own at the gym.

But it was his smile, that close-lipped half-smile with his downturned eyes that made Junhee’s heart ache.

On impulse, Junhee made a quick search to find Donghun’s personal account. They hadn’t had Instagram back when Donghun had blocked him, and he felt a little bubble of excitement as he found an account: _DongDong93,_ with a recognisable profile picture. His hopes were dashed, however: _This account is private._

“Lemme in…” Junhee whined aloud. Trust Donghun. Ever cautious and, probably, too smart to broadcast his life to just anyone wanting to creep on him. Not like Junhee, who flung out photos without much care as to who might find them. Who would want to look up his dumb pictures of coffees and nights out anyway?

Besides, why did he want to look at Donghun’s life so badly? Curiosity - for old time’s sake, he told himself. After all, the boy had written a damn book based on their old friendship… But what was it Junhee was hoping to find? Did he want to see where he lived these days? Did he want to find out if he’d ever met someone? Did he want to trail forlornly over more photos of him, with his long hair and strong shoulders? And most of all… did he want to look through a window into his life, and get reassurance that Donghun was happy?

He heard again Yeonjin’s words from earlier that evening: _Is this why you refuse to get close to anyone… because you still have feelings for him?_

All the years never meeting a boyfriend. All the nights with his legs wrapped around some boy’s hips, imagining that they were him. And now this, this desperate thrill at finding his book, the way it stopped his heart to know that Donghun had thought about him… perhaps still did think about him…

Junhee let out a long breath.

“Shit.”

~

Junhee got home the next day and quickly deposited his jacket on the side, rummaging through his backpack. A little brown paper bag was nestled inside, and he sat down in the kitchen, taking out the contents.

Was he really going to do this?

The old saying of having ‘nothing to lose’ wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Perhaps the wounds had closed, and scars had healed, and perhaps attempting to open them back up was just about the worst thing he could do. Perhaps this would be vastly unwelcome.

But the fact was, Junhee knew Donghun. This wasn’t some past lover he was pining over. This wasn’t some acquaintance gone awry. He knew him, inside and out, and he had a forgiving and sentimental heart. And he believed that if nothing else, he might accept the olive branch he deserved to be given.

Junhee peeled off a page of the notepad, and began to write a letter for the first time in a long time.

~

**_Donghun_ **

“This is an extremely long shot, but you’re really cute – you don’t happen to want to swap numbers and get a drink some time?”

Donghun continued drifting through his thoughts as he waited for the barista to make his coffee. He half tuned-in to the boy chatting someone up to his left, and when no one answered him, Donghun looked up. He jolted to find the boy looking at him. He looked over his shoulder, certain that there must be someone else behind him. There wasn’t.

“Who? Me?” He pointed dumbly at himself, and the boy smiled.

“Um, yeah… Unless I’m talking to the other zero people here.”

“Oh!” Donghun felt his face go red. “I-I’m sorry, I’m seeing someone.”

“Ah. Too bad.” The boy collected his coffee from the counter. “Well, have a good one.”

Donghun watched him go, absolutely dumbfounded. A creeping suspicion stole over him; ever since school, he was always suspicious that any advances from strangers were somehow people laughing at his expense, someone ready to catch him out and make fun of him. The concept that someone would genuinely just want to approach him still felt farfetched.

He accepted his latte from the barista and headed back outside, hand in pocket. It dawned on him for the first time that he was single, for the first time since university. Single as an adult. He balked. He was pretty sure this was where he was supposed to gather up his friends, get sloppy drunk and rebound into bed with whoever the hell he wanted. The idea couldn’t be any less appealing.

The café was just down the road from his publisher. He didn’t have to come in often – his literary agent normally handled things, and besides, he was still a wide-eyed newcomer in the world of publishing. Growing up, he had imagined it to be glamorous, with writers and cover artists filling buildings with their blossoming ideas. The truth was a lot less giddy: there was a lot of bureaucracy, a lot of administration, and a _lot_ of deadlines.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t love it. He headed into the building, happy to be there. A few staff flitting around greeted him as he headed through to his meeting.

“Mr Lee! So nice to see you.”

It was only three weeks until he flew out to Europe for the reading events. It couldn’t have come at a better time – it was giving him a focus through his breakup. This meeting was to run through everything required of him, and to check that he had all the information he needed. He did, and all that he needed to do between now and then was to find the confidence to read an excerpt of his novel aloud for the first time, to a room full of people.

After the meeting, he tried to grab all the people he needed to speak to before leaving – although everyone perpetually seemed busy. He waited around for a colleague, anxiously glancing at the time – he was due to meet friends for dinner later and he was running late.

“Oh, Donghun?” He looked up as he was approached, and smiled as he saw Jing from the front desk. “There’s a bunch of mail for you.” She handed him a wad of envelopes.

“Ah, thanks, Jing.”

He started rifling through them quickly. Most of the stuff he got was from companies trying to sell their copy-editing or ghost-writing services, so he began to split them out into two piles. Advertising… Advertising… Something official looking, that he put in the ‘keep’ pile… Advertising… A letter with a hand-written address. Donghun paused, frowning. The handwriting looked familiar. He chucked it into the ‘keep pile’. Another advertising…

“Donghun! Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Donghun jumped up, and grabbed his five minutes with the senior editor. With his questions answered, he grabbed his bag and the two piles of mail, jogging back to reception.

“Jing…” He leaned on the front desk, giving her a winning smile. She raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want me to do for you?”

“How did you know?” Donghun held up one of the mail piles. “Could you be a real star and send these back for me? If they don’t take me off their mailing lists, we’re going to be able to have a bonfire with their marketing materials…”

“I’ll do it this one time.” She rolled her eyes, but a smile twitched on her lips as he handed them over. “See you again soon!”

“Bye!”

He hurried downstairs and out onto the street, rushing to the metro and hopping on the next train towards his destination. As he sat down, he began to flick through the envelopes still in his hand. He realised, with a flash of frustration, that he had handed Jing the wrong pile in his haste. He rolled his eyes at himself and stuffed the spam mail into his bag. Oh well. There was never anything important sent to him anyway.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee raised an eyebrow over the kitchen island at the girl opposite him. He would never get over her propensity to pull the most dramatic of faces over the smallest of things. He guessed that was what thirteen-year-old girls were like.

“Ugh, it’s too _hard_. I can’t do it!” Haeun dropped her pen and planted her elbows on the table, sighing.

“Yes, you can.” Junhee pushed up his rolled sleeves, raising an eyebrow. “Haeun, I know you can do this. We’ve been through it. Just work through each word and apply the verb endings we learned last week.”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t? Did you just ‘can’t’ me?” Junhee folded his arms, trying to fight the amused smirk from his face. “How old are you, four?”

“Ha ha.” Haeun, despite herself, picked her pen back up grumpily. “You don’t understand.”

Junhee had been tutoring Haeun for almost six months now. She was American-Korean, born in the States but relocated to Seoul at the age of three. Now, her father’s company was moving him back Stateside, and they had employed Junhee to fast-track her English ready for her new life in New York. At first, he had been daunted by this massive house, with its huge kitchen and marble breakfast bar, and by the parents who were dressed in clothes more expensive than the amount he could save in a whole year. But as soon as he had met Haeun, he had developed a soft spot for her. She was, first and foremost, a brat. A capable, intelligent brat, but a brat nonetheless. And he got a sense that, behind her pouting and flouncing, she didn’t altogether hate their lessons.

“I don’t understand?” Junhee sipped his coffee and pushed his glasses up his nose. “What, because I’m a big bad adult? Try me.”

Haeun fixed him with one of those impressively bored looks. “It’s easy for you to say it’s easy. You don’t know how hard it is, I mean, you’re fluent in Korean and English.”

“And Italian.”

“Oh my _god_ you’re so annoying.” She huffed. “That’s my point. You’re, like, a teacher. Everything’s easy for you. You don’t know how hard it is for me to learn English.” She glared at him accusatorily. “And now you swan in here with your hipster clothes and your tattoos that you hide from my parents and make me learn boring verbs and boring grammar and it’s _hard_.”

Junhee couldn’t help it, he sniggered, and Haeun grinned despite herself.

“Well, firstly, I’m not a hipster. Secondly, I don’t hide my tattoos-”

“Why the long sleeves?”

“Okay fine, I hide them from your parents.” Junhee glared at her. “But let me level with you. I know what it’s like to find language hard.” He sat back. “Do you really think I was born fluent in both languages – when my parents are both Korean? I moved to Italy when I was even younger than you, and I barely spoke a word of Italian or English. I couldn’t talk to anyone.”

Haeun narrowed her eyes. “What happened?”

“I learned. Just like you’re learning. And I picked up more and more when I was at school until I could speak it well. And you’ll do the same – but this?” He tapped her textbook gently. “This is the head-start I wish I’d had.”

His student put her chin in her hand, looking away. For a moment, she seemed to struggle with what to say.

“I don’t want to go to America. I want to stay here.”

Junhee’s eyebrows rose in surprise. There was a sudden note of vulnerability in her voice that he had never heard before. Putting down his pen, he proceeded carefully.

“How come?”

“I don’t speak English. And when I do, my accent is bad, and I make mistakes. And I like our food and our music and our clothes. I don’t like the American things.”

“I get that. But hey, you can still listen to EXO in America, you know.” He pointed at her t-shirt and she looked down, her face sad. He sighed. “I know you think I’m just some teacher who doesn’t get you, Haeun, and maybe I don’t. I mean, you’re a girl, and girls smell.” Haeun glared and stuck out her tongue. “But I know what it’s like to move abroad when you’re younger, and how hard it can be. You have to leave your friends behind, and your home, and that sucks.” She looked away again. “And I remember being afraid because I made mistakes all the time in English. I kept calling my friends _hyung_ out of habit and I couldn’t separate my Ls and Rs.”

“Did they think you were a dweeb?”

“No. I was super popular.” Junhee grinned smugly, but then he shrugged. “You’re going to be okay. Your English isn’t bad, and nor is your accent. And we’ll keep working through as much as possible before you go, and make sure you feel as confident as possible, okay?”

Haeun nodded. “I just feel fed up of moving around. I’m technically American, but I don’t belong there. But I wasn’t born in Korea and I’m not a citizen so I don’t belong here either. I don’t have a home.”

Junhee watched her, his heart aching. He sighed, taking off his glasses.

“Haeun,” he said gently, and she looked up reluctantly. “I felt exactly the same as you when I was younger. Even when I was at university. But you know… All the places you end up living in your life – you only gain those places as homes. If you make a life somewhere, it becomes your home, no matter what languages you speak or what type of food you eat. And your heritage – that’s something no one can ever take away from you.” He looked down, lost in memories of a restaurant garden in Suwon, and a hand holding his tight as he had talked about his own displacement. “Someone really wise taught me that.”

“Ooooo, was it a _girl_? Are you in lo-ove?” Haeun’s mischievous grin was back, and this time he stuck his tongue out at her.

“Shut it. You’ve got verbs to learn.” They both picked up their pens again, and Haeun settled back to her work. After a moment of silence, she spoke again, so quietly he almost missed it.

“Thanks, Mr Park.”

Junhee smiled.

Haeun finished up her lesson with no further tantrums, and Junhee headed off home through the warm evening. He read webtoons on his phone on the metro ride back to his apartment, and he was still musing over the latest storyline as he unlocked the front door.

“Hey Junhee? These came for you.”

Junhee stuck his head around the living room door and accepted his post from Yeonjin, his headphones around his neck. He walked into the kitchen. The first looked like a bill, and the second-

His heart dropped.

His own letter, still sealed, a black marker crossed through the address for Donghun’s publisher.

_Undelivered. Return to sender._

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ End of Part VI ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donghun, nooooo..! You careless fool!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm having so much fun writing and am actually just about to take a deep breath and write the ending... Boy, I just can't wait to share it with you. Just as a little teaser - Chapter 7 is coming soon and I cried three times while writing it...
> 
> Thank you as always for sticking with the story, and for your kind feedback. You really are the best.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	7. Part VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reading Donghun's book, Junhee has realised he never did entirely move on from what happened with his childhood best friend. Wanting to reach out to him, he sent a letter to Donghun's publishers, only to have it returned to sender.
> 
> Meanwhile, Donghun is oblivious to the boy across the city reading his book, focussing instead on settling into his new apartment and his upcoming readings...

**_Junhee_ **

The end of Junhee’s hair dripped with sweat, and his legs had begun to ache from the exertion. Still two miles to go.

Normally, his runs were short and light, something to burn off extra energy when he was twitchy on the days between gym sessions. But when something was on his mind, and he couldn’t stop his racing thoughts, runs helped him clear his head and escape the endless cycle.

His letter to Donghun had come back unopened. Junhee didn’t know if he had gotten the address wrong, or perhaps his publishers turned away unsolicited mail – who knew? But the distinct sting of disappointment he had felt had made him realise how much he had hoped that it might lead to some rekindling of contact between the two of them.

And now there were a hundred things going on in his head. Donghun’s book. The way it had made him feel. The undelivered letter. And the conversation with Yeonjin that he kept replaying, because it had all forced him to admit that just perhaps, the feelings he had for Donghun… they had never gone away. And then… and _then_ … there was the thing he’d found online the other day…

And so, he was running.

…Though perhaps fourteen miles was excessive.

He got back to the front door and leaned against it, gasping for breath. His hands shook as he fished out his keys and made it inside. He collapsed into the living room, almost falling on top of a startled Yeonjin, who was reading on the sofa.

“Jesus Christ.” Yeonjin poked one of Junhee’s trembling legs. “Has the zombie apocalypse started outside? Did I miss it?”

“I ran.” Junhee turned over, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

“…You went running two hours ago.”

“Yeah.” Junhee opened one eye to find Yeonjin looking at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“I will never understand you,” he said slowly, an eyebrow raised.

“I need to stretch. Make me get up.” Yeonjin pushed him half-heartedly and he rolled onto the floor. “Right. I’ll stretch and shower, then… wanna shoot some zombies to make up for the fact there’s no apocalypse?”

Yeonjin sighed, looking disappointed. “Guess that’ll have to do.”

Junhee forced himself to stretch out his aching body, cleaned up, and threw on sweatpants and a tee, joining Yeonjin back in the front room. His housemate tossed him a controller and they both sat on the floor cross-legged, joining forces to blast apart some zombies.

“So you know how that letter I sent to my old friend got returned?” Junhee said it casually; it was so much easier to talk while they were both fixed on their game. “I was sort of disappointed about it.”

“Uh-huh.” Yeonjin pushed his glasses up his nose. “What did your letter even say?”

“Nothing melodramatic. I just told him I’d read his book and I’d found his publisher and… that if he wanted to, I’d love to talk to him again.” His casualness belied the painstaking effort it had taken to write out that short note, the way he had struggled to say any of the things he truly wanted to say.

“Couldn’t you message him on social media?”

Junhee grimaced. “No. I’m blocked, remember? And even though I found him on Instagram… I’m not messaging him.” He took out a zombie that was about to take a chunk out of him. “That’s… not right. I don’t want him to pick up just some Instagram message. It seems insincere. What we had was… big. And what I did to mess it up was big. And now if I want to get him back in my life, however that is… It needs to be done right.”

“Makes sense.” Yeonjin shot him a glance between rounds. “When you say you want him back in your life, in what capacity..?”

Junhee smothered a sigh. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “I haven’t really got that far. I think I just want to… to tell him I read his book. And tell him I’m sorry. Tell him the truth of what happened that week in Suwon, I mean, he deserves to know that and deserves an apology.” He felt himself turn a bit warm. “I haven’t really thought past that.”

“Sounds like you’re being realistic.”

They carried on playing in silence, working in tandem to wipe out the monsters. Of course he was being realistic. What did Junhee think would happen beyond that? Who could know. He didn’t know if Donghun would accept an apology. He didn’t know if he’d want anything to do with him. But if he did, perhaps they would get some closure on that damned night in Suwon? Perhaps it would make Donghun feel good, to know Junhee never meant him harm? Perhaps Junhee would come away from their meeting relieved he’d had a chance to tell him he was sorry, and even more relieved to see his friend happy and successful, after all this time? What more could he possibly want?

…A second shot at their friendship? An opportunity to tell Donghun his book made him feel things he couldn’t even put into words? A second chance at what he could have done before? A tiny, infinitesimal chance for Donghun to say he still had feelings for him too and for them to finally have their moment and for Junhee to push back his long hair and get wrapped in those strong arms and kiss him until he saw stars..?

“Oi! Behind you!”

Junhee jumped as Yeonjin yelled at him, and spun around in the game just in time to spray bullets at a zombie.

“So…” Junhee tapped the controller as they waited for a new map to load. “Seeing as the letter didn’t get through… I found something online.”

“Uh-oh.”

“He’s doing book readings at this set of events promoting LGBT writers. I was thinking of going along to one of them…”

“Sounds good-”

“…They’re in Europe.”

Yeonjin hit pause on the game to stare at him, and Junhee smiled guiltily. His friend shook his head.

“I take back the thing about you being realistic.” He shoved up his glasses. “Junhee, what if you go all that way and he doesn’t want to talk to you..?”

Junhee shrugged. “Worth the risk.”

“Jeesh.” Yeonjin still looked at him like he was crazy. “I guess… That’s the sort of shit you pull if you’re into being romantic.”

“I’m not romantic.” Junhee shrugged. “I have literally never done one romantic thing in my life, Jin. I don’t believe in romance. But I believe in Donghun, and that what we had is something that only comes once in a lifetime. And I believe I have to try and fight for that… even if I might be five years too late.”

“…You need to stop reading soppy books. Even if they _are_ based on you.”

Junhee shoved him in the side of the face.

That night, Junhee lay in bed lit by his laptop light. He was watching an anime, but only half his focus was on the episode. He was sending flowers to a friend for her birthday on his phone, and he leaned over to grab his wallet from the bedside table. As he went to take out his credit card, his hand brushed the little wad of receipts and tickets tucked inside one pocket. He pulled them out. His old Manchester Uni student card. A wristband from pride in London. A folded plane ticket, when he had finally decided to return to his roots and move back to Korea. And an old, creased photograph. Junhee ran a thumb over the photo of his best friend, the first one he had ever been sent, of a sixteen-year-old Donghun with his grandparents’ shiba inu. Junhee had tucked it inside his wallet the day he’d opened the letter on the bus to school, and he’d carried it ever since.

Twenty minutes later, he had booked his flight to Milan.

~

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun had his fingers pulled inside his sleeves, feeling extremely uncertain. Around him announcements rang out in French, signs and billboards read in English letters but _none_ of the words were familiar, and for the first time in his life, the colour of his skin was by far a minority. He felt very small and scared.

He had a sudden and intense respect for anyone who had moved countries in their life.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself, readjusting his grip on his suitcase and pulling his mask down to his chin – here, it looked out of place. “You can do this.”

He had left Incheon thirteen hours ago, and he hadn’t done a great job of sticking to his plan to sleep as much as possible on the plane. He’d never flown far, and not often, and he found an even mixture of anxiety of flying alone and fascination of watching the clouds out the window too much to abandon for sleep.

As he headed through Charles De Gaulle airport, he kept an eye out for English signs – at least those he could read… mostly. He made a dry note to himself that one day, if he ever made enough money from writing, he would pay someone a good deal to hold his hand in situations like this and translate for him.

With some quick translating and a little help from Papago, he successfully made his way to his hotel. He barely had the energy left to kick off his shoes before crashing down and sleeping for a full twelve hours.

When he woke up, he showered and readied himself, and headed out onto the streets of Paris.

He had never seen so much _bread_. He wandered down the street, fresh pastry in hand and a very strong coffee in the other. He hadn’t been sure how to order anything with milk and this deep brown drink woke him up very quickly. And with it, tension melted from his shoulders and he started to soak up the city with wide eyes.

He had woefully little knowledge about Paris, and he’d certainly never heard of Le Marais, the district he found himself staying in. It was filled to bursting with boutique clothes stores, vine-covered restaurants, art galleries and bars, already open in the early afternoon. What was blowing his mind, however, was the very fact that this place was openly flaunted as one of the city’s LGBT districts. He passed so many boys holding hands with boys, girls with girls, and no one seemed the slightest bit concerned about running into someone they might know or receiving funny looks. Sure, back home they had The Hill in Itaewon, and that road in Jongno, but nowhere that had reached this level of… comfort.

And so it was no surprise that their first event was held here that evening. Donghun’s hands began to shake as he headed to introduce himself, and though the other writers and organisers greeted him warmly, nothing could calm his nerves ahead of reading his book, aloud, for the first time. But the audience was full, and attentive, and their applause and thoughtful questioning not only set his nerves at ease, but made his heart fill with happiness. The act of signing copies of his novel was completely and utterly unreal.

He stayed with the other four writers afterwards for drinks, traversing the language barrier the best he could, before politely excusing himself with the aim of heading back to his hotel. However, as he stepped outside into the warm Parisian night, he found his feet taking him in the opposite direction.

He’d done it.

He was a real, proper writer.

In the process of writing, he had barely stopped to think about anyone else reading it. This story had been inside of him, and it had to come out, and so he had squirreled away into the early hours day after day to channel his characters onto the page. Once finished, and he was editing, he had started to wonder if a handful of people might read it and enjoy it. Family. Friends. But he hadn’t even dared to dream that people on the other side of the world would read it, and come to listen to him talk about it, and want his scrawled signature on the inside cover of their copies.

The wine had made his head a little fuzzy, and it was nice. He drifted down the street, drinking in the laughter and music spilling from open-fronted bars and restaurants that lined the streets. The end of the road opened up into a square, lit up with lamp light and fairy-lit café-bars. Couples sat, lost in conversation and cradling red wine.

Donghun smiled. It felt a lot like he was walking through a romance movie.

In places like this, stories unravelled in his head; characters played out scenes across the square in his mind. He supposed, deep down, that he was an old romantic. He had never planned to be, essentially, a romance writer, but that’s the form his book had taken, whether he had wanted it to or not. He was endlessly in love with love itself, with the notion of soulmates, and great, romantic gestures – even though so far in his life, he’d had no proof that magic like that existed.

And here in this lamplit square, thousands of miles from home, he felt a wistful tug in his heart. If only one day, love wouldn’t just be something he wrote about, but something he felt.

As he walked, hands in pockets, the first droplets of rain stared to fall. Around the square, people hastily snatched up their glasses, hurrying inside to resume their evenings. Donghun tilted his face up as the rain began to fall, quickly turning his hair wet. He supposed if this were one of those love stories, this would be where someone would scoop him up in the middle of the square and kiss him in the rain.

But instead, he pulled up the hood of his jacket and turned for home.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Whenever Junhee came back to Italy, there were little moments where his brain short-circuited. He stood at the coffee shop counter, momentarily choked on his words as his brain tried to calculate which of his languages it was using. After a momentary fumble, he switched into Italian.

Growing up, he hadn’t come up to Milan that often. It was quite a trek up from San Gimignano, and if his parents had wanted to go shopping in one of the big cities, it had usually been Florence or Bologna. It was fun to be here, although the nervous fluttering in his belly wouldn’t go away.

He hadn’t told any of his friends, besides Yeonjin, the real reason for his coming here. He had simply said that he was coming back to visit his parents – not untrue, because he was going down to see them tomorrow. But tonight, he was going to see Donghun’s book reading, and that was the true reason he had flown nearly nine thousand miles across the world.

He had no idea what to expect.

The thing was, Junhee didn’t get nervous. He had always been confident – in school, at university, and now he was a model, for Christ’s sake. He was hardly a shrinking violet. Back at school, girls had hung after him for as long as he could remember, and since coming out, he had no trouble meeting boys on nights out. He was always collecting friends and was never shy around new people.

So this feeling, this anxiety deep in his chest, it was brand new.

Perhaps it was because there had always been more boys. Always new friends to make. Always new opportunities or new modelling gigs to pick up. But there was only one of Donghun, and if he didn’t want to talk to Junhee – what then?

He got ready in his hotel room last minute, keen to trick himself into thinking that he didn’t care what he looked like. He checked his phone for the address one last time, and then picked up a plain, unsealed envelope from the dresser. He looked down at it, biting his lip.

He didn’t want to overstep any mark. There had been a moment of panic mid-flight where it crossed his mind: what if Donghun thought this was batshit crazy of him? What if he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Junhee – if his novel had used him as inspiration but Junhee had somehow misread the affection written into those lines? He had had a gin to steady himself. Even if he wanted nothing to do with him, he trusted Donghun to know that his intentions were nothing but good.

And he wasn’t delusional. Yeonjin had cautioned him not to expect Donghun to have feelings for him still – but Junhee knew that already. Who harboured feelings for someone five years after they had ran away?

But still, he turned over the letter in his hands, the one written on his flight. It was based on a whole lot of ifs. _If_ Donghun wasn’t still too pissed to deal with him. _If_ Donghun didn’t think he was crazy. _If_ they got a chance to talks… and things went better than he could hope. And even then, only if Junhee could summon the bravery.

He tucked it into his pocket and headed out.

~

The event was being held in a really beautiful room, filled with fairy lights and walls lined with old books. It smelled somehow of whiskey and libraries, and it was filled with people. Junhee slipped in and took a seat at the back, quite happy about the low lighting giving him a place to hide.

Obviously, he was here for one person – but as the event got underway, Junhee found himself getting absorbed in the conversations between the hosts, guests and writers. He wasn’t altogether very engaged with any sort of LGBT community – sure, he’d gone to Pride once or twice, but only really because it was a fun day out with his friends. But being in a room listening to such a broad range of matters, watching an open discussion… it was thought-provoking. And he felt safe.

So safe, he had almost managed to distract himself from his own cocktail of feelings.

But the second he saw him, they came flooding right back.

Junhee’s childhood best friend had two smiles. One, the most common, was close-lipped, and soft, and with his downturned eyes always seemed to carry some hint of sadness, even when he was happy. But the second, when he broke into one of those big, broad smiles, that’s when it split his whole face and crinkled up his eyes. And as he took up his place in front of the audience, Junhee saw that those smiles hadn’t changed one bit, and his heart just about broke in two.

He was beautiful. Yes, of course, he now had longer, wavy hair and that nose piercing and he was working out, but not that – he looked happy, and confident, and he was, right this second, achieving his dreams, and _god_ did that make him beautiful.

He started to introduce himself, and it was a voice Junhee missed so much, he had to swallow hard to keep his tears at bay.

Sometimes, there are big moments in a person’s life that they always remember – weddings, birthdays, holidays. And then there are the little moments, the quiet ones, that tend to creep up on a person and steal a place in their heart without them knowing it’s coming. And Junhee would always remember this, hearing Donghun read an excerpt from his first novel, about the two boys who wrote letters, and the way it made him instantly realise how he felt.

Pride. Did that cut it? He was spectacularly, painfully proud of that boy. Most people harboured dreams – but Donghun had worked on his, and made it come true. He could have given up – when Jiho made his life hell at school, he could have given up. When he was working until the early hours to get into Seoul National, he could have given up. When he was outed by that boy at uni, he could have given up. But he had worked, harder than anyone else Junhee knew, and now he was here.

And there was something else.

Something Junhee should have known all along.

Love.

It had always been there, hadn’t it? Twelve years ago, he had tumbled into being a teenager, and Donghun’s letters had made him feel little flickerings of something for the first time in his life. When they had swapped pictures, he had drunk in Donghun’s appearance with the kind of giddy crush only fifteen-year-olds can manage – only then he had repressed it. At university, every phone call, every message, everything, it had been because he loved him.

And it was easy for Junhee to tell himself that he had moved on. Because he’d got his life together? Because he’d dated? But even if he hadn’t realised it, even if had just been in his subconscious, he had moved back to Seoul because _Donghun_ had convinced him he belonged there. And those nights in hotel rooms with boys he’d just met, Junhee always shut his eyes and thought of _him_. He’d refused to think about it for five entire _years_ , but the fact was that Junhee would always wish the boy in his bed was Donghun, because the night they had slept together, with Donghun kissing him like he was the only goddamn person on earth, was the only time Junhee had ever felt loved for who he really was.

He might have admitted to Yeonjin that reading Donghun’s book had brought up old ‘feelings’ – but that didn’t begin to cover the half of it.

He was still in love with him. He always had been.

And that was why he knew he couldn’t do this.

He listened to Donghun’s reading, and to the questions he was asked. And he watched, as the event ended, Donghun turn to one of the other writers, laughing, his eyes bright. He was happy now. Happy, successful, smart, and strong. He had everything he had ever dreamed of.

And Junhee couldn’t risk ruining that. Not after he had hurt him so fiercely. How could he even think about bringing up all those past emotions, re-opening old scars, selfishly inserting himself into a life where he wasn’t wanted, nor needed? How could he do that to the boy he loved so dearly?

The event came to an end, and Junhee headed to the door, and slipped out quietly.

~

**_Donghun_ **

By his fourth and final one of these events, Donghun had grown accustomed to the happy little flush when they successfully ended. He didn’t think he’d ever stop fretting about no one showing up, or stumbling badly over his words, but this one concluded just as smoothly as the others. He smiled and spoke to the people from the audience who came to speak to him afterwards.

Someone popped a glass into his hand as he talked to two girls, and he smiled at them, thanking them in awkward Italian. It felt somehow fitting to end this set of evenings in Milan. He looked down into his glass wistfully. Perhaps his novel had been set purely in Korea, but this was, after all, where all the letter-writing that inspired his work had begun. He couldn’t help but think of Junhee, and wonder what he would think if he knew Donghun was here, in the very country he’d grown up in.

Of course, he’d never know Donghun had written an entire book based on their friendship.

He felt a sudden and unexpected surge of sadness, and he delicately excused himself to pop to the bathroom.

In the quiet, he leaned on the sink, looking into the mirror. He knew why he felt sad, and there was precious little point in denying it. Writing this book… It had kept Junhee’s and his relationship alive. Perhaps none of those emotions had ever been real, but at least to him, he could disappear into a different world, the one of Taehyun and Minseok, and let himself believe, just for a second, that his and Junhee’s story had ended differently.

The creative process had taken years, and now it was done. The book was published. The events were over. He had to return to Korea, and then he had to turn his focus to finishing his second book, and look ahead, not back. And perhaps in all this time, he hadn’t really acknowledged what he had been doing – because he had been with Byunchul, and because he had been kidding himself that Junhee was just a creative prompt that happened to inspire a story. But now he had to accept it, didn’t he?

Every story came to an end. And now it was time to let Junhee go.

He took a deep breath and headed back outside.

This had been the bit he had been most nervous of: talking to strangers after events in a language that wasn’t his own. But everyone was kind about his mistakes, and patient when he had to search for the right words. People began to mill out into the night, and he was still deep in conversation with an Italian boy about race and sexuality.

“You know… This is probably really not the time and place,” Nico said. “But… you don’t happen to want to carry on this conversation over a drink someplace?”

Donghun looked up in surprise. The last time this had happened, back in a café in Seoul, he had immediately hidden with the excuse that he was seeing someone, even though he had ended his relationship by then. Nico’s eyes were hopeful – and he was handsome, if a little younger than Donghun, and he was clearly smart and interesting. Donghun hesitated. He definitely wasn’t looking for something right now. Hell, if he was being honest, it was like he was going through two breakups right now: Byunchul, and letting go of Junhee. But he couldn’t hold onto the past forever. He wanted his romance movie moment. He wanted someone to travel across the world to sweep him off his feet, he wanted someone to write him all their feelings in a love letter… And if that was going to happen, he had to start letting people in.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Nico smiled, and he did too. What the hell – a drink couldn’t hurt.

He fetched his things and headed out into the night.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Whenever Junhee returned home to San Gimignano, there were always two conflicting feelings.

Firstly, he loved his parents. Coming back into the home he had spent so many years in before moving to England was comforting. The little garden filled with pink flowers, the smells of home cooking, and seeing his parents after so long made him slip back into a kind of teenage ease.

But he also felt like whenever he set foot here, he slipped on a mask. He knew his parents didn’t like his tattoos or piercings, and even though he wanted to be steadfast in making his own decisions, he still found himself removing his earrings on the train down, and wearing long sleeves that covered the tattoos over his forearms. He would censor his language, play down the number of nights he spent out in Itaewon and, of course, hide his sexuality away for as long as his visit lasted.

He sometimes looked at some of his friends’ relationships with their families: open, honest, fun and accepting. He felt bad that he felt envious - after all, his parents had raised him well and he knew it could be a lot worse.

He was only here for two nights this time, and he hoped that would limit the number of opportunities to get grilled about finding a girlfriend and awkward conversations where his parents stubbornly still referred to him as Christian, even though he’d abandoned going to church six years ago.

His father was out for a work event on his first night there. His mom cooked them dinner, and he tried his best to help in the kitchen.

“Ah, see? You still know how to make Italian food even though you never come back here to see your poor mom and dad.”

“Don’t guilt me,” he replied, but she flicked flour at him and he grinned. “You know working two jobs keeps me stuck in Seoul most of the time.”

“Would you call showing off too much skin and wearing some fancy jeans a job?” His mom carried on her slicing. Junhee took a silent breath and let it out slowly, rolling his eyes where she couldn’t see.

“Modelling’s a job, Mom. You try it, and let me know if you still don’t think it is.”

“I’d make a great model!” His mom struck a pose and he grinned again, wiping back his bangs with the back of his hand. “Anyway, I like your tutoring job. Education is the most important thing of all. And it’s good practice for you to be around kids. Do they all like you?”

“Oh, kids love me.”

“That’s nice.” His mom sidled up to him, rubbing his back and peering into his face. “So when will you settle down and bring your mama some grandchildren, hm?”

Junhee had to try hard not to sigh again. He wheedled out of the subject, and they finished up cooking, ate dinner, and headed to the living room to settle in front of a show.

A great deal of Junhee’s mind was still on yesterday’s reading. In the low light of evening, free of his mom’s questioning, he replayed it again, his heart twisting with some great mixture of feelings. The fact was, he was happy. Happy to see that awkward little kid who spent his life at the mercy of bullies grow into this independent writer, someone who people came out to listen to. And while, last night, he had felt a little shaky about his own realisation, he was at least happy that coming here had helped him understand why he felt the way he felt.

He loved Donghun dearly, so he had to let him go.

And okay, perhaps he’d had a little cry back in his hotel room back in Milan.

But there was something else on his mind. Donghun’s book had left a big impact on him, changing the narrative that could have been his own path. If only he had been brave, like Donghun – maybe now he would still have that boy in his life. Donghun had been brave and honest from the start, and look where he had gone – he was an LGBT writer, proudly and prominently representing the community. He’d always dated, he’d always had the support of his mom, and he’d always had friends who had loved him for who he was.

Junhee had done the opposite. He’d gone awry at fifteen – stifling his own fantasies, lying to himself and everyone around him, and where had that gotten him? Memories that made him turn cold of sleeping with women in his late teens. Tumbling out at twenty-one and ping-ponging into endless dates and hook-ups that made him feel unloved. And having to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, even with his own family.

What would have happened, if he’d been honest, just like Donghun?

What would happen if he chose to start being honest now?

He looked up at his mom. She was happily engrossed in their show. A nose bumped Junhee’s foot and he looked down at Lion, reaching to scratch his big head. Grey whiskers were starting to appear on his chin.

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” She paused the show and smiled at him.

He took a deep breath.

It had to be now.

“I want to tell you something.”

A frown passed over his mother’s face. “Park Junhee, if you tell me you’ve gotten another tattoo I-”

“No, no… It’s not that.” Junhee crossed his legs in the armchair, looking down. He played with the red bracelet around his wrist; he’d only just patched it back together, but it was in one piece. “You know that families should be honest and stuff…”

“Junhee..?”

He looked up. His mom watched him with concern on her face. He swallowed, momentarily lost, unable to do anything but look at her.

“What have you done?”

“I haven’t… I haven’t done anything.” Lion rested his head in Junhee’s lap, his eyes looking up at Junhee in question. “Mom… I… You know you ask me about a girlfriend a lot.”

“Do you have one?!”

The tone of hope in her voice cut Junhee hard. It was almost enough to make him stop.

“No-”

“Agh, then Junhee, what are you on ab-”

“Mom, I’m not straight.”

Silence.

A kid laughed in the distance.

Lion gave out a whine.

Junhee couldn’t look up. He couldn’t, absolutely could _not_ look up. He didn’t want to meet her eyes. He didn’t want to see her face, he just wanted to fade away into nothing or take back his words or run away but he had to look, he had to look and try to gauge her reaction and-

She was staring at him.

“What..?”

She said it in Italian, not Korean, and Junhee didn’t know why that felt like suddenly the most ridiculous thing of all. He wanted to laugh at it, but he couldn’t, because if he laughed he was going to cry, and he couldn’t even move.

“I… I like boys.”

Still she stared.

There was a very long pause.

“But you… still like women too.”

Junhee looked up, his heart beating hard. It took all his effort to find his voice, even though it left him as a weak croak, and instead, he settled for shaking his head.

His mom just stared at him, the colour drained from her face. It was like she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

She shut her eyes.

Tears leaked between her lashes.

It was the first time he’d ever seen his mom cry.

“Mom…” He watched her cry silently. She didn’t open her eyes. “Mom, please, I don’t want you to cry… I know this isn’t what you wanted but… But I have to be honest, don’t I?” Silence. “Mom?” His voice started to wobble. “I love you, Mom…”

She looked away, raising a hand to dab at the tears that wettened her face.

“Can y-”

“I just wanted my little boy to fall in love and have a family. I wanted grandchildren.”

Junhee froze. Her words felt like a slap.

No, he had never expected this to go well. Whenever he had played it out in his head, he imagined the worst. But still, _still_ , he had secretly hoped his parents might surprise him… That maybe, after all these years of him being a loving, thoughtful son, they might accept him. That perhaps, despite their faith, they would believe him to be a good person, no matter who he loved.

He couldn’t live a lie anymore. He just hadn’t expected to break his own mother’s heart.

A long minute stretched out. His mom cried, her face still turned away. Lion looked between them, sensing something was badly wrong. Junhee watched, wringing his hands.

Eventually, it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything more.

“Mom..? Do you… want me to leave?”

Silence, still.

Junhee’s lip wobbled.

“Okay.” He stood up quietly, his knees shaking, and headed out to the hallway. It took two quick minutes to collect his things and pull on his sneakers. For just a moment, he stood, looking at his childhood bedroom, the books still crammed on the shelf, the old soccer trophies on the desk. He had to go, because another moment here and he would process what was happening. He picked up his suitcase and went downstairs.

Still moving like he was in a dream, he put a hand to the latch of the front door. A quiet whine caught his attention.

Lion padded up to him, cocking his head.

Tears finally slid down Junhee’s cheeks.

He crouched down, taking Lion in his arms and turning his face against his fur. This all felt unreal, but this, hugging Lion when it could be the last time, because he might not ever come back, he might never be allowed back… His shoulders shook quietly.

“I love you, Lionie.” Junhee cupped his fluffy face. “Be a good boy.”

Lion wagged his tail, and the sight made Junhee’s face screw up.

Steeling himself, he stood up, and opened the front door.

He hadn’t thought this far. Hadn’t thought about the fact it was late evening, and he had nowhere to stay. He pulled his case down the garden path. Whose parents were still in San Gimignano? Did Matteo’s family still live close by? And Luca and his wife, were they still in Siena..? Could he get a cab down?

“Junhee, wait!”

He stopped dead. Looking back, his mom stood, backlit in the doorway.

He didn’t know whether to move or not.

“Come here… please…”

Cautiously, he headed back down the path.

He stopped in front of his mom. She looked up at him, her eyes red and her face tear-stained.

“Junhee, I…” She swallowed, and shrugged helplessly, tears falling again. “I wasn’t… I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know… This is a lot. I’m… I wasn’t expecting this.”

Junhee thought about speaking, but no words came out.

“You… You know I was raised in church, just like your grandparents, and… You know what we’re taught, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Junhee looked at her, pained, suddenly exhausted. “I do. I used to sit in church every week while someone told me I’d go to hell for something I couldn’t change.”

His mom’s wet eyes met his. “You knew then..?”

“Mom, I knew when I was like… fourteen. Kind of. I mean, I was so scared I tried to fight it ‘til I was in my twenties.” He let out a breath of mirthless laughter, another teardrop falling. “I get it, some churches, _our_ church, believes this is some _choice_ people make.” He met her eyes. “Do you think I’d have chosen to be gay when I knew you and dad would hate me, my church would reject me, that I might be bullied for it? No. But now… Now I would choose it. Give me a hundred chances to change and I still choose being myself. And being _happy_.”

For a long moment, he held his mother’s gaze.

“I want you to be happy too. That’s all I want.” His mom’s lip trembled, and Junhee searched her face.

“What are you saying?”

“I… This is hard, Junhee. I… I don’t think you should tell your dad. Not yet. But… I…” She stopped, helpless. “You’re my only child. I don’t… I don’t understand this but… I still love you.”

Junhee was holding his breath.

“I love you too, Mom.”

“So… come back inside?” She held out her hands, and Junhee’s tears began to fall again. Hesitant, he stepped forward, and then accepted the arms that wrapped around him, tilting his face against the top of his mom’s head, and burst into earnest tears.

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ End of Part VII ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, just one chapter left...
> 
> I mentioned in Part VI's notes that I cried three times writing this chapter: and that was Donghun walking through Paris in the rain; the reading; and of course, Junhee's coming out.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this one. We'll conclude our story next time - see you then!
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


	8. Part VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhee has had Donghun in his heart for as long as he can remember - but seeing him speak at his reading in Milan has made him realise that now is the time to walk away, and let him go. 
> 
> Little does he know that Donghun too, thought of him that night, and realised that after his own book-writing process and breakup, now is the time to move on.
> 
> Every story must come to an end.

**_Donghun_ **

Donghun leaned his head against the train window, watching endless fields of green stream past. It was a warm day, but dark clouds had started to build in the distance; he hoped the rain would hold off.

He was still in a bit of a daze from the past week. Seeing three new countries, hearing three new languages, it had been a complete whirlwind for someone who before had barely left Korea. And that was before he got to the readings. He had made friends with new writers, met new contacts, and – most mind-bogglingly of all – signed his name in the front of books for people he would have never in a million years thought would read his work. And hey, he’d even been out for a drink with one of them.

He thought back to last night. He had spent an hour or two with Nico, the boy from the reading. It had been fun – Nico was twenty-two and in medical school. He had been smart, talkative, and not to mention attractive – but nothing had happened, even though Donghun was fairly confident it could have done, if he’d let it.

But in all his soul-searching, his processing and realisations, Donghun had come to recognise that he wanted more than just something that was good on paper. He didn’t want safe, he didn’t want sensible. He wanted fireworks. He wanted a story. And perhaps he’d wait a long time for that, perhaps he’d be waiting forever, but so be it.

The train started to approach the next station, and Donghun stood up. He was one of few stepping off the train at this stop, and he wandered down the steps, pulling out his phone for directions.

As he walked, pulling his case behind him, he looked at the town through which he walked. Everything was made of the same light beige; towers peeked up above the other rooftops; kids ran laughing through the street, kicking a soccer ball from one to another.

He checked himself into his Airbnb, finding the key under a plant pot in the little front garden. He raised an eyebrow; people must really trust each other here. The apartment was far bigger than he needed it to be, with a farmhouse kitchen and a bedroom with a four-poster bed. It felt so European.

Donghun made himself a coffee from the supplies left out by the owner, sitting in the seat in the window. He was only here for a night, but perhaps this was a good spot to do some writing. It was so… _peaceful_.

He showered next, letting his hair dry wavy about his ears, put on fresh clothes and headed back outside. The house was nestled on the edge of the town, and he set off down the path that led away from it.

The rolling fields brought with them a real sense of freshness, and Donghun took a deep breath. Still, clouds gathered on the horizon, but for now there was nothing but a pleasant warm breeze. He checked his phone quickly, making sure he was going the right way – but then he broke free of a line of trees and the sight made him stop.

An entire ocean of sunflowers, running gold as far as he could see.

He started to walk again, down into those fields with their huge yellow flowers reaching up to the sun. He ran his fingers along the thick stalks. They grew so tall – taller than he had imagined – and then he realised it was because he’d never actually _seen_ sunflowers before. He’d only been told they were tall enough to hide between by one little boy, a long time ago.

Donghun still wasn’t entirely sure why he had come to San Gimignano. He had been free to book his own flights and expense them back to the publishing company, and he had planned to stay an extra night in Milan before his flight home tomorrow evening. But Italy itself made him think of Junhee. So did his breakup, so did his own book, and so had these events over the past week. He’d come to terms with the fact that those years with Junhee hadn’t been something he’d managed to relegate to the past. They still brought with them a lot of sadness, pain, and lost hope. He had thought he had moved on when he blocked Junhee and moved on to be with Byunchul, but over the past few weeks he had come to realise that the imprints were still there. And if, at last night’s reading, he had realised that his book had been a way to keep Junhee’s and his relationship alive, and that in ending promotions came with letting go of his past, then this trip was the final chapter of his closure.

And he had always wanted to see the sunflowers.

He sat down on a little hill that rose up next to the sea of buttery petals, eyes out pensively over the blossoms and the greying skies above. The occasional person would walk the field’s perimeter, often with a dog in toe. He could almost imagine a little Korean boy running between the stalks, laughing.

Donghun’s phone pinged, and he looked at it with a smile. His friend Chao-Xing was looking after Hae while he was gone, and was taking great delight in dressing her in different coloured bows and collars.

In a way, he was excited to get back home. As he sat here, the wind in his hair, he felt somehow freer than he had done in a long time.

His first book was selling well, and he was enjoying the process of writing his second. He had his own place. He had great friends. And he was shedding the weight of a relationship that wasn’t right, and that made him feel light. Things were good.

He sat for some time, until the clouds really started to threaten rain, and he stood up, brushing down his jeans. He took a long lungful of fresh air and stretched.

A strange-looking bird hopped down by the flowers, and he smiled. Looking over to his right, just further along the little hill, a boy sat, the wind catching his hair, leant over and writing in a notebook propped against his knees, and a woman walked her dog. Donghun watched, still lost in his thoughts of the future.

And then he looked again.

The wind blew the boy’s hair over his face, but for just a second, Donghun could have sworn…

He took a step closer, and another. The more he walked, the faster his heart beat, until he was stood just a few steps away.

He faltered.

“…Junhee..?”

The boy looked up and froze.

They just stared at each other. Donghun took a step back, completely stunned, as Junhee stared back with big, childlike eyes, still holding his pen to his page.

“Hunnie..?”

Donghun jolted. No one else ever called him that. He tried to compose himself, tried to shut his mouth that was hung open in shock, as Junhee got to his feet.

“What are you doing here?”

For a moment, Junhee’s question failed to rouse an answer, and then Donghun realised he needed to speak. “I… Oh, um…” Shit. Of course he shouldn’t be here. This was just a small Tuscan town, and Donghun had no cause to be here… But he found himself unable to lie. “I, er, I had a book tour thing. I… I wrote a book. Um, so I just sort of stopped off.”

He felt warm. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to ask him about his life – quickly pretend he didn’t know anything from social media? Was he supposed to hug him in greeting? No, don’t be ridiculous.

“A book?”

“Yeah.” Donghun played with his fingers, unsure of how to stand. “I write.”

“Oh. That’s… awesome. Well done.”

Junhee’s words were faltering, and he looked just as uncertain as Donghun. Fuck, this _so_ awkward…

“Um, why are you here..?”

Junhee paused, and then gestured vaguely back towards town. “My parents still live here…”

“Oh, right, of course.” Donghun’s face went warm. “And… things are good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, all good… You?”

“Yeah.”

Junhee pulled his fingers inside his sleeves, and glanced out over the sunflowers. Donghun’s heart contracted so hard he felt it in his throat. Junhee’s windswept hair fell messy over his face. After so long, he should look like a stranger to Donghun but he _didn’t_ , he looked just the same as when he had looked out from the hill over Suwon. The last time they had been together, they had slept together, they had shared secrets, they had been the best of friends… All those years on the phone, all those years sending photos, all those years writing letters when they were little boys who lived an entire world apart and now, _now_ Donghun was stood in front of him and he had no idea what to say.

“Well, I… I better get back before it rains.” Donghun said it before he could really process it. But he couldn’t stay here. Not with Junhee, not in this awkward static. Not when he felt all these feelings coming flooding back out of his heart after so long. Not when he wanted to grab him and stop him turning away. Not when he was reliving that moment in his hallway, getting his heart broken, and feeling all that pain all over again. And _god_ , he was starting to feel anger, and hurt, and embarrassment yet again, and it crashed against all those feelings of rose-tinted nostalgia and-

“It was nice to see you.”

 _Nice to see you_. As if that could ever be true.

“Yeah… You too.”

Donghun nodded once, and with one last quick glance at Junhee’s face, turned to walk away.

Everything felt distant. His hands shook. His heart pounded. He just needed to keep walking and get back to town and-

“Donghun, wait-!”

Donghun turned and flinched as he saw Junhee run towards him. He stopped in front of him and Donghun crossed one arm in front of himself, uncertain.

Junhee searched his face.

“I… I can’t just let you walk away.” Donghun stared at him, and Junhee looked desperate, like he was struggling for words. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? He was sorry? No, this wasn’t _fair_ , because now Donghun’s throat was sticky and he wanted to go away and cry and it wasn’t _fair_ that Junhee was making him crumble again. But he didn’t move.

“For what happened in Suwon.” Junhee’s eyes didn’t leave his face. “I… I know how much it hurt you. I mean, I hurt myself too, but that’s not the point. I… I was weak, and I regret it-”

“Stop, please.” Junhee shut his mouth as Donghun spoke, and Donghun hated how much he could hear his own voice shaking. “It was a long time ago. It… You don’t need to feel bad.”

 _I don’t want you to feel bad_. That’s what he wanted to say. Junhee kept staring at him, tilted his head slightly to one side, the same wide-eyed look of questioning Donghun knew so well and _fuck_ , it made him want to pull him close and make him okay and - _stop!_

“No, I… This isn’t about me trying to absolve my own guilt.” Junhee held out hands, like placating an animal about to bolt. “I’m… I wasn’t telling the truth. I… didn’t just come to Italy to see my parents. Hunnie… I read your book...”

Donghun felt the ground under his feet tilt.

“What..?” Junhee nodded, and he felt heat burn onto his face. “You… You read it?”

“Yeah,” Junhee nodded, and smiled hopefully, his eyes beseeching. “Hunnie, it’s _beautiful_. I read the whole thing in two days and… and you did it, I’m so proud of you.” Junhee caught himself, his face turning pink, and Donghun shrank back, guarded. “Sorry,” he garbled. “I know it’s not my place to be proud of you anymore…”

Donghun couldn’t stop staring at him. Junhee had read his book. Junhee, who was so blatantly written into his pages as Taehyun, had read his book. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know how to feel. All he could sense was shock coursing his veins and his heart beating wildly fast.

“You can be proud of me…” It came out before he could stop it, and Junhee’s eyes filled with hope. It seemed to encourage him on.

“Well I read it, just a few weeks ago… I just saw it in a bookshop by chance and after I finished it, I looked up your publisher. And I saw you had these readings and one of them was in Italy so… so I came.”

It took a long moment for the penny to drop. Donghun froze.

“You were at my reading..?”

Junhee paused, then nodded slowly. “Yeah… I wanted to see you. Hunnie, I…” He stepped closer. “There were so many similarities that I recognised. I mean… the letter writing? And I… I’m a lot like Taehyun, right..?”

 _No, please. Please don’t make me admit it to you. I’m begging you. Don’t humiliate me again._ Donghun started to feel tears at the back of his eyes. The first drop of rain hit his arm.

“I guess,” he managed, when he could finally find his voice. “I guess I wrote the ending I wished had happened.”

Their eyes met, and Junhee looked at Donghun with such aching sympathy, it could have just about broken his heart.

“Donghunnie… I’m sorry. Please-” He held up his hands, cutting off Donghun as he began to speak. “Please listen. Please let me tell you everything.” Spots of rain started to land on both their faces. “You don’t need me to tell you about the way I was brought up. You know about church, and my religious family. But what you don’t know is that I… I started to feel things when I was a teenager that I wasn’t allowed to feel. I started to look at boys the way I wasn’t supposed to. Fuck, Hunnie, I… I was jacking myself off thinking about boys and then going straight to church where they told me being anything but straight is a sin that I’d go to hell for.

“And yes, obviously I slept with women and told myself I was straight. But then I came and met _you_ after so long, after so long pushing down feelings and…” Junhee trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “And everything was _perfect_. For the first time I let in those repressed feelings and… well… that’s why what happened, happened.

“I’m sorry that I panicked the next morning. I’m really, _really_ sorry. It was the first time I had to face up to not being straight and I thought I was gonna get disowned by my family and everything… But that doesn’t change that I shouldn’t have done it…”

He hesitated, but if he thought Donghun was going to say something, he was wrong. Donghun was grateful of the rain falling, because he couldn’t trust himself not to cry.

“So I… Like I said, I read your book, and I had to find you, I tracked you down and came to your reading, and I was gonna talk to you but… I…” Junhee stopped. “Hunnie, I’m your Taehyun, aren’t I?”

Donghun finally blinked tears down his face. He nodded.

“And… if you’re Minseok…” Junhee swallowed. “Is that really the way you saw me?”

Donghun searched his face. He thought back on the way they used to be, the way Junhee had been the most important thing in his world back then. The way he would always make time for him, always protect him, because through his eyes, no one was more beautiful, no one was more perfect.

He nodded.

“Donghun.” Junhee put hands on his shoulders. “You should know… I felt that way about you too.” Junhee shook his head. “The way your Taehyun loved Minseok back… that was real too. Those emotions you invented… they were real. I had feelings for you when I first saw a photo of you. Even _before_ that. I always loved you.”

There was a distant rumble of thunder.

The rain began to fall harder, turning both their hair wet, but both of them ignored it.

Donghun could do nothing but look up helplessly into Junhee’s face.

He… had loved him? No, that was wrong. That was the fundamental difference between Taehyun and Junhee. Junhee had seen him just as a friend. He had run away that day because he didn’t love him. He had met someone else because he didn’t love him. He-

“Hunnie..?”

“Those feelings… were real?”

“Yes.” Junhee searched his face. He took a breath. “ _Are_ real.”

Donghun’s heart stopped.

“…What..?”

“When I read your novel I realised I’ve never moved on from you.” Junhee still held Donghun’s shoulders. “I came to Milan because it was my only way to reach you. I tried writing you a letter and sent it to your publishers,” he babbled quickly, “but it was returned. So I came to Milan and I planned to talk to you but I… I saw how _happy_ you were, and how well you’re doing, and I just realised how badly I fucked up our story…” Junhee shook his head faintly. “But… you’re here… And I… I have to tell you because I might never get another chance.”

It was too much for Donghun. No. This wasn’t his narrative. He had built his own version of events and that had been the only way to move on with his life, and now it was getting deconstructed. So many months of tearing himself apart over Junhee not loving him, and he’d healed his own wounds, and nursed his own scars, only to find out _now_ that Junhee had… had… loved him. _Did_ love him?

“I-I sent you that letter!” Junhee looked suddenly hopeful, and Donghun stared. “When I got back to England after leaving Suwon..? A letter..?” Donghun’s throat suddenly constricted, and Junhee’s face fell. “You never got it, did you? I told you how I felt on that letter. That I needed some time but I… I wanted to try and work it out with you.”

The letter. The one that had arrived over summer, the one Donghun had sobbed at and screwed up without opening. He felt sick. That letter had told him… that Junhee had wanted to be with him?

Everything was rising up. He hated himself, he hated Junhee, he hated his false narrative but so _desperately_ wanted to cling onto it because that was his reality, he hated the shame he had lived with for five years, he hated his confused heart, and he was filled with sorrow and humiliation and hurt and confusion and-

There was a sharp smack as he slapped Junhee, hard.

Junhee stepped away, holding his cheek, but he still met Donghun’s eyes.

“I… I deserved that.”

“That’s for fucking me and leaving.” Tears stood in Donghun’s eyes, his hands trembling. “You broke my heart.”

Junhee spoke quietly. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Donghun’s lip wobbled, and another rumble of thunder brought with it a heavier rain. It began to run down Donghun’s face, mixing with his tears. “I was so in love with you and I thought… I thought I just wasn’t enough for you. I… I turned in on myself. I started wondering what about me wasn’t good enough. I even started going to the gym because I thought I wasn’t attractive enough for you.” He ran desperate fingers through his wet hair. “I kept wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay even after all we’d got together… And _yes,_ I knew it must be hard for you but… but… then I saw someone else came along and _they_ were enough…”

“Someone else?”

Donghun swallowed, suddenly aware of his own mistake. But fuck, to hell with it. “I… I looked you up social media. I saw a photo of you at Pride with some boy… So I knew you’d come out and met someone else that was enough…”

“Hunnie, no, that’s not it!” Rain dripped from Junhee’s chin. “Donghun, it was _you_. _You_ made me accept myself, and my sexuality, and I realised I was in love with _you_. But by the time I’d gone home and processed it, you’d blocked me - and rightly so, because I walked away and left you… But I couldn’t reach you.” He looked hopeless, wet hair hanging in his eyes. “I had no way to get through to you, and I was too late. And I accepted that you didn’t want me in your life.”

“This isn’t my fault…” Donghun said, his voice weak. He backed away. “This isn’t my fault.”

“No, of course it isn’t…”

“You… You loved me then. You don’t still love me now..?” He searched Junhee’s face. It couldn’t be true-

“I do.” Junhee stood, soaked through, every last barrier down. “I’ve never met anyone. I’ve never been with someone. I mean, I’ve slept with boys but… I’ve never had a relationship because they were never you.”

Donghun blinked more tears. All those nights following him online, thinking he never paid him a second thought. All the time writing his book, convinced his own love had never been reciprocated. And his entire relationship with Byunchul…

“Everything is your fault.” Donghun felt his voice rising, rising to a shout, and he couldn’t stop it. “My relationship broke down because of you. Because he thought I wanted to be with you, or… Taehyun… but…”

“How am I to blame for that? Sorry for… existing!” Junhee’s voice had risen too, and Donghun felt a tug in his chest. _Yes_ , anger, let them shout, let them argue, because this was easier. “Did _you_ want to be in that relationship?”

Donghun snapped.

“No, I didn’t, I wanted to be with _you_ , all this time I’ve just wanted _you_!” Thunder threatened to drown out his voice. Rain tipped down hard, plastering his hair to his head.

Junhee’s eyes were wide as Donghun continued to shout.

“I’ve always just wanted you, I’ve always been in love with you, and I’ve always felt guilty, and I _hate_ you for it!”

“And I’m twenty-five,” Junhee shouted back, arms spread to the sides. “And I’ve never found love because no one compares to you, and guess what, I fucking hate you for that too!”

“You’re _kidding_ m-”

“And guess what, whenever I sleep with someone I can’t get _you_ out of my head! I can’t fuck a guy without thinking about _you_ , and hearing _you_!” Bright pink spots had appeared on Junhee’s cheeks.

“Why the _hell_ are you telling me this?!” Donghun yelled in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable!”

“Oh, _I’m_ unbelievable?! Why did you write a _book_ about me?!”

“Oh shut your fucking mouth-!”

Junhee swept him into his arms and kissed him.

Donghun wrapped his arms around his neck, and kissed him back twice as hard.

Rain doused them both, thunder rolling in the distance. Donghun felt nothing, heard nothing. The only thing that mattered was Junhee.

They didn’t break from their kiss as Junhee reached behind Donghun’s legs and picked him up. Donghun wrapped his legs around him, holding his face.

It felt like fireworks.

For a long moment, their lips moved against one another’s. Donghun let out a desperate noise against him, squeezing his legs tighter around his hips and accepting the tongue that curled into his mouth. He tasted like the sweetest poison.

They broke from their kiss, gasping for breath. Junhee looked up at Donghun, still holding him up, and reached a shaking hand to push his wet hair back. Donghun did the same, staring helplessly into his face.

“I’ve got you,” Junhee whispered. “I love you, and I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go.”

As Donghun leaned back in to kiss him, he knew that in a lifetime of writing, he could never have written words more perfect than that.

~

**_Junhee_ **

Junhee had developed a habit, over his lifetime, of listening out for tell-tale sounds when he woke up to establish where he was. He could hear the distant ringing of a church bell, and it placed him in San Gimignano. Turning over, bed covers rustled around him, and he opened his eyes. He smiled.

He was careful not the rustle the duvet too much as he reached out and tucked back a curl of hair from Donghun’s face as he slept. His face was peaceful, lay on his front with one bare arm curled up under his pillow.

Junhee couldn’t quite register that he was here.

For a moment, out on the little hill over the sunflower fields, he had thought he was straight-up hallucinating. He had stared up at Donghun, unable to fathom that he would somehow be here in this little town, right on the spot Junhee used to sit and write letters to him. But he was, and even though everything had come spilling out messily and for one goddamn moment, he thought Donghun was going to walk away, he hadn’t. And it didn’t matter that they had shouted, it didn’t matter that it had been pouring with rain – Junhee had spent his whole life looking for a home, and kissing Donghun had made him realise that home had never been a place.

Junhee ran fingers across his shoulder lightly, but it made him stir.

“Mh.” Donghun’s eyes fluttered open, hazy from sleep, and looked up at him. His sleepy pout blurred into a faint smile. “Hey…”

“Hey…”

“Hey…” Donghun accepted the lips that pressed to his, turning onto his side, and Junhee shifted closer. As they broke apart, Donghun blinked sleepily. “Love you.”

Junhee couldn’t help the smile that broke out over his face. “I love you too, Hunnie.”

They rested their heads together, morning light filtering in through the white drapes.

Yesterday, after their moment in the rain, they had run back to town, soaked to their skin. Donghun had pulled Junhee in the direction of the place he was staying, and they had fallen through the front door and burst out laughing at each other’s bedraggled states. Donghun had suggested dry clothes for them both, but they had faltered, unable to break apart from each other.

Junhee had never felt so desperate as when they had started to peel off their clothes. Still soaked, still with wet hair in their eyes, they had grabbed each other, feverish and frantic. Junhee had never _needed_ someone the way he had needed Donghun. They didn’t get their clothes all the way off, staggering back against the kitchen table and fumbling their way around the apartment. Junhee’s shirt was still hung from his shoulders, open, and Donghun’s wet jeans still clinging to his legs when they made it to bed. They hadn’t said a word, it was just gritted teeth and sunk nails and a feeling of deep, powerful ecstasy.

And then they had changed clothes, dried off, sat in the little spot in the window and _talked._ And talked, and talked, catching up on five years missed from each other’s lives. In the evening, Junhee had run back to his parents’ to smuggle out snacks, and on his return they had propped a bottle of wine next to them, but they had barely moved from that spot, toes touching as they tried to catch up on a hundred missed stories.

Junhee opened his eyes again now, squirming a little. Soft fingertips were tracing the tattoo on his hipbone and he shivered, watching Donghun follow the lines.

“I still can’t believe you actually published a book.” Junhee put his hands behind his head. “And did readings. In _Europe_.”

“Me neither.” Donghun carried on tracing. “I wish I could go back and tell myself at ten that it would all pay off in the end.”

“I wish I could go back and tell the people who gave you grief in school,” Junhee replied. “Hey, fuck you, Kim Jiho, he’s a published author who travels the world.”

Donghun snorted. “God, there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” He shuddered. “What a little bastard.”

“Yeah. You got a punch in though.”

“Mh.” Donghun withdrew his hand and slipped it back under his own pillow. “You wanna know why I punched him?” Junhee tilted his head in question. “He found one of your letters. He made a joke about you, thought you were my boyfriend.”

“I mean…” Junhee smirked teasingly. “Maybe he just knew before we did… Jiho the Clairvoyant.”

“Ew, shut it.” Junhee grinned as Donghun shoved him, and pulled him close again.

“I meant what I said you know. I am proud of you.” He kissed Donghun’s forehead. “These readings are a huge deal. And you did so great.”

“I guess.” Donghun shrugged it off; Junhee noticed fondly that he still hadn’t learned to take a compliment. “But my English needs work. Maybe you could be my teacher.”

Junhee couldn’t help it; he shot him a _look_ , and grinned. “Only if you call me ‘Sir’.”

“Fuck’s sake, Park.” Junhee laughed as Donghun rolled over to wrestle him down for his cheek. He got pinned down easily. “You know there’s only one of us teaching the other one a _lesson_ around here.”

Junhee grinned up at his smirk. “God, Hunnie, since when were you all cocky in bed? I thought you were supposed to be a _nerd_.” He laughed and then yelped as Donghun sank teeth into his shoulder.

“Yeah and you’re supposed to be a model, and I thought they didn’t _talk_.” Junhee tried to wrestle Donghun off, and they fought against each other, until Junhee pushed Donghun back so hard his head smacked the bedpost. He sat up quickly.

“I’m sorry!” Donghun was still laughing though, and Junhee laughed too, quickly cradling his head and rubbing the spot he had bumped. “Why are we like this.”

“I’ve missed this.” Junhee looked down in surprise, and Donghun looked up at him with affection. His expression softened.

“I’ve missed this too.”

He tilted Donghun’s face up to kiss him, and then Donghun pushed him down and lay over him. He kissed Junhee’s cheek, lavished attention on his neck, pulled up his arm and pressed his lips against the tattoos on his wrist. Junhee watched him, lips parted, overwhelmed with the way every littlest affection felt on his skin.

And this was what had been missing with everyone else. It had always been hollow – a fumbled rush past the early stages, a quick fuck, just to get to a brief release of pleasure.

What had been missing was love.

Donghun took his time, stopping to kiss his chest, stroke back Junhee’s hair, catch his earrings gently between his teeth. Junhee nudged him onto his back in return, wanting to pay him the same attention. He worked his way down and knelt, hooking up Donghun’s leg and kissing his inner thigh until he was quivering. He worked higher, and when he finally took Donghun in his mouth, he got to watch goosebumps light up across his belly.

Fingers coiled into his hair. “I… I love you, baby.”

Junhee glanced up in surprise, pulling back and shifting to resume his place over Donghun. He kissed his neck. “What did you call me?”

Donghun opened his eyes. “…Sorry. Don’t you like it?”

Junhee smiled bashfully, shaking his head, and felt his ears turning pink. “No, I do. Just… no one’s ever called me anything like that before.”

“Come here.” Donghun pulled him next to him, holding him from behind. Junhee whimpered at the fingers that probed him and the mouth kissing the sweet spot behind his ear, and then followed that initial pleasurable fullness.

Donghun pulled himself in tight, and every roll of his hips brought him closer, and he slid a hand into Junhee’s, where they clasped them over the bedsheets. God, Junhee loved this man, more than he’d ever loved anyone, and the way he treated Junhee like this made him want to love himself, too.

What started slow and tender became rougher, and Junhee bit down on his lip. He loved this about Donghun too – because just like their first night in bed together five years ago, it was like Donghun just couldn’t ever hold himself back, and that was the wildest turn-on of all.

Once they had both seen stars, they curled back up, stroking each other’s hair in silence for a while.

“What did you tell your parents about not coming home yesterday?”

Junhee shrugged faintly. “Said I’d run into some old friends. They didn’t mind.” He paused. “I came out to my mom the night before last.”

“What?” Donghun propped himself up on his elbows, looking at Junhee with wide eyes. “Junhee… How did that go?”

Junhee glanced away, thinking of his mom’s tears, and the moment he had hugged Lion, afraid it was goodbye. He recounted it to Donghun quietly, and a warm hand slipped into his and squeezed.

“I guess a part of me is sad that it upset her so much, but at least it’s done.” He smiled faintly. “It was almost funny. When we went back inside the house, she asked me if I have a boyfriend. I told her I’d never met anyone and never had a relationship and she got _weirdly_ pissed at the gay community.” He snorted softly.

Donghun stroked back his hair. “Like, if the gays are going to steal her son, they could at least be queueing up to date him?”

Junhee grinned. “Exactly.” He met Donghun’s eyes. “I just decided I had to start being honest. I’ve spent a lot of my life hiding who I am and the way I feel, and look how much that cost me.” He swallowed. “I just wanted to be brave like you.”

“Junhee…” Donghun still stroked his hair gently. “You’re _far_ braver than me. My mom always sort of knew, and I barely had to come out. What you did… I’m so proud of you.” He saw sympathy on Donghun’s face. “I know that must have been really hard for you.”

“Yeah… I just hope my mom’s okay.” Junhee swallowed. “I think she’s just disappointed. She really wanted me to have a family and children, y’know..?” He played with Donghun’s fingers.

“You can still have those things,” Donghun said gently, and Junhee met his eyes. “Who knows, there might be some crazy idiot who’d want those things with you…”

Junhee smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. He thought for a moment, unsure of whether to proceed, and then decided to continue with his honesty.

“So, I wrote a letter that I was going to give you at your reading.” He sat up, reaching for the little envelope he had tucked into his pocket when returning to his parents’ last night for supplies. It was still blank and unsealed. “I wrote it and I didn’t think there was much chance I’d give it to you… But I want you to have it.” He smiled. “Sometimes I think all those letters we wrote made me better at writing my feelings than saying them.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Donghun sat up, the duvet falling to his waist. He accepted the letter and began to read.

At first, there was a happy smile on his face, but as he read, his eyes grew soft, and he started to skim faster, blinking quickly. Junhee watched him silently.

“Do you… really mean this?” Donghun said quietly as he finished reading, looking up. He nodded. “Junhee…”

But Junhee was feeling suddenly a little bit too overwhelmed to talk about it, so he leaned forward and kissed him instead.

They got out of bed and got ready, tidying up the apartment and getting their things together. Donghun turned to Junhee.

“Time for a walk before we head back to Milan?”

Junhee smiled. “Of course.”

They had realised last night that their flights home were a mere two hours apart – and they had rolled their eyes that the hands of fate couldn’t have slipped just once more and put them on the same plane home. But Junhee had promised: as soon as they had both slept off their jetlag, he would give Donghun a call, and come over to see him at his place.

The rain from the night before had cleared, and left behind it a world washed clean to full clarity. All the colours looked bright today, and a clear blue sky stretched out overhead as they walked down through the fields. A group of young boys played soccer, shouting out, and as the ball rolled beyond their makeshift pitch, Junhee kicked it back to them, a smile on his face as they shouted their thank-yous.

They reached the sunflower fields, the sunshine colour lifting his heart instantly, just like they had always done. He watched Donghun run a hand along the tall stalks up ahead, and he looked back over his shoulder at Junhee with affection on his face.

Junhee followed him. For a moment, he thought about what he had written to Donghun on that letter, and it made him smile.

He caught up with Donghun and took his hand, and they walked through the sunflowers together.

_｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ The End ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re done! I so hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I feel like I’m running short of ways to thank you for reading, and for leaving your comments that really do make my day. Much like Donghun in this story, I’ve written stories for as long as I can remember, and also like Donghun, knowing people are reading them really is a dream come true. It might seem like a small thing, but the little fics you hold in your hands (/on your phones) are a slice of my writer-ly dream. Thank you for letting my characters and ideas explore a little further than just my own notebooks.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with our story as we travelled though Suwon, San Gimignano, Seoul, Manchester, Paris and Milan: 고맙습니다, grazie, merci, thank you.
> 
> If you ever get a chance to go to San Gimignano, and to see where the sunflowers grow, please take the chance. You won’t regret it.
> 
> Until next time.
> 
> With love,  
> The Indigo Dragonfly
> 
> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/IndiDragonfly)


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